Metamorphosis
by Ms Morpheus
Summary: A sinister discovery compels Shepard to hunt down the Illusive Man, in search of the dark secrets of her past and the key to defeating the Reapers. Post-ME2, sequel to 'From the Ashes'. FemShepxGarrus.
1. Captive

**Sequel to 'From the Ashes', in which Shep and Garrus fall in love and save the galaxy from the Collectors. This story is set after the events of ME2. Phoenix Shepard is a paragon biotic badass, and not quite human in a few ways. Shep and Garrus have developed a bond that allows them to sense one another's thoughts and feelings. To avoid confusion, I've used italics to represent thought-dialogue (rather than quotes.)**

**I start off on a darker and more serious note, but as with my first story there will be citrus as the plot develops.**

**Anything you recognize from Mass Effect belongs to Bioware.**

* * *

Shepard raged against the fog enveloping her mind, slowly regaining awareness of her body. She could feel her heart beating, her lungs breathing, but any attempt at voluntary muscle movement was ineffective. She tried to open her eyes, succeeding only in elevating her heart rate and increasing her frustration. Fighting her growing panic, she focused on her breath, attempting to identify her location by scent. The familiar smell of gunmetal and spice was distinct and nearby, but her anguished mental cries elicited no response from the comatose turian. Medical smells, antiseptic and alien tissue, were underscored by a sharp metallic tang. Sensing movement, she lashed out with biotic energy only to be slammed into unconsciousness by an answering blow.

…

"She's waking up again." _Samara?_

"Shepard. If indeed Shepard. Have administed powerful seeker-derived paralytic. Struggling is futile. Do not attack. Need to run more tests, will explain shortly depending on results." _Mordin? What the hell?_

So she was in the tech lab, a prisoner of her own crew. Of all the people who might betray her, these were the last two she'd ever suspect. Still, they hadn't killed her yet despite ample opportunity to do so. Shepard decided to bide her time and try to make sense of the situation as she analyzed the Normandy's schematics to plan her escape.

* * *

After the defeat of the Collectors, Shepard was delighted when most of her new teammates decided to stay on. Even Grunt and Jack were still aboard the ship, claiming she was the quickest way to find a good fight and worthy enemies. Secretly Shepard hoped they actually cared about the fate of the galaxy, but wasn't about to turn down their help either way. Only a few of the specialists left her: Zaeed took his pay and set off in search of Vido, frustrated by her refusal to waste time on petty vengeance while the Reaper threat persisted. Thane took a brief respite on the Citadel to spend time with his son, promising to rejoin them soon. Mordin promised to continue his efforts to find a cure for his Kepral's syndrome. Miranda said she had some soul-searching to do, and disappeared on Ilium with Jacob in tow. Despite their differences, she and Shepard parted ways on good terms. Although Garrus had long been acting as the Normandy's executive officer, the Cerberus agent's departure made it official without creating friction amongst the humans. Enough of the Cerberus employees broke ranks and joined her to form a skeleton crew, including Joker, Dr. Chakwas and her engineers. With EDI's capabilities they had sufficient personnel to keep the Normandy flying.

With the ultimate goal of mounting a defense against the Reapers foremost in her mind, Shepard made a list of priorities. First she'd go to the Citadel, mending fences with the Council and hoping to earn an official reinstatement of her Spectre status, rather than the secretive endorsement she currently had. With no concrete evidence of the Reaper factory's existence, that might prove difficult. At the very least, she should be able to persuade Councilor Anderson to provide her with Alliance soldiers to staff her ship now that she'd cut ties with Cerberus. Next, she'd contact her various friends and allies to quietly build an army ready to deploy when the inevitable attack came. Rachni, krogan, human, quarian, salarian: all could be counted on for some measure of support. If the Council forces could be persuaded to join her so much the better.

Finally, Shepard had a side project that was dear to her heart. The Illusive Man claimed to have information regarding her identity, her origins. It might have been a bluff, but his words stirred up an old itch, the unshakeable need to find out who she really was, whether she had parents or family, why she was capable of so much that should be impossible for a human. Liara might have some leads, and she owed Shepard a favour. Unfortunately, a stop on Ilium wasn't in their current itinerary, and the subject matter was too sensitive even for encrypted channels. Although many suspected she was somehow enhanced, only Garrus knew the full extent of her abilities. As far back as she could remember, Shepard had always been aware of her cybernetic implants, her synthetics seamlessly integrated with her organic self. She had extraordinary regenerative abilities, impressive even for a krogan. Alliance physicians and engineers had tried to study her during her time in the special forces program, but if they found any useful information they certainly didn't share it with her. Surreptitiously scanning their datapads with her circuitry, she discovered they planned to replicate her technology for use in other recruits, hoping to amplify biotics without the side effects that plagued most with L-series implants. They seemed to think she was the product of commercial scientific endeavours, an escaped test subject of some sort. When she found out the Alliance had been injecting her blood into military 'volunteers', increasing their vitality but failing to provide any lasting effects, she decided not to tell them that her wetware could interface directly with her consciousness. She began to have nightmares of doctors making clumsy attempts to hack into her brain to see what made her tick.

No, she didn't trust the Alliance scientists. Any military or commercial group would simply see her as a resource to research and exploit. After a lengthy discussion with Garrus, she decided to start by asking Samara for help. The justicar graciously agreed to use her considerable abilities to mine the recesses of Shepard's memories for clues to her past. Sitting in lotus position, Shepard faced Samara and let the asari take her hands. Garrus wrapped his arms around his mate as he nestled behind her. His body was warm and comforting, although she was apprehensive about bringing him along for this particular journey.

_Relax, Shepard. Let your breathing slow, your mind clear, and focus only on the sound of my voice. Let your thoughts drift back to your earliest memories. Embrace eternity!_

_Can't breathe so hot can't breathe it hurts so much eyes stinging skin peeling lungs burning I have to fight I have to move I'm going to die so scared can't breathe so hot come on fight push forward fight fight fight…_

Gasping, Samara withdrew her hands and moaned in pain. _I did not anticipate such an intense stimulus, Shepard. It is difficult to extract meaningful information from such a memory. I am willing to try again, but you will need to be more removed from the source._

_I used to have nightmares about escaping from the fire. I haven't had one since the old Normandy. Too much else on my mind now, I guess._

_Perhaps if you could recall having such a dream, it will allow me to access the necessary memories in a more detached manner._

_Are you sure you're willing to do this again? It must be very painful._

_No more than it is for you, Shepard. Let us proceed. I will describe what I see as we go along: you will find it difficult to be subjective as you relive the experience._

Shepard awoke drenched in sweat, flame and destruction receding into the empty darkness of her quarters. Clawing at the sheets, she gasped for air and struggled to bring the world into focus. She was engulfed in all-consuming fire, recalling with perfect clarity the acrid stench of burning hair and the searing pain and delicious numbness where her skin melted away. Wounded and half-blind, she crawled through the endless wreckage, keeping her head low and fighting the urge to curl up and let the flames end her suffering. She forced herself forward, forward for what felt like hours until she felt an impossible draft of air, dragging her body through the open door and across the empty lot beyond. She collapsed as the building behind her gave way, shaking the ground as it imploded in a great ball of smoke and ash.

She regained consciousness days later in the med clinic, her body immersed in a soothing bath of medi-gel, the irritation of the tube in her trachea becoming increasingly unbearable. Thrashing against her restraints brought a flurry of white-coated activity, and she felt herself slipping back into oblivion. Time passed in a dreamy haze, until her head cleared and she was no longer choking, her wonderful bath replaced with gel-soaked gauze. A female voice roused her, strict and motherly, the staff physician conducting rounds with her charges.

"Unidentified human female, age five or six by her growth plates, found unresponsive at 0400 hours on Monday by a gang of vagrant children near the remains of a burned-down warehouse. No citizenship implant." This was a charity hospital, set up to provide a safety net for the City's untouchables and to train young medical residents in the trauma and burn care that was so rarely required by civilized society. "She received extensive burns to seventy percent of her body surface area: it's incredible she reached the hospital alive, and she's out of the gel tank weeks ahead of schedule. Her regenerative abilities are simply unbelievable. Extubation this morning was successful, vitals are stable. She has extensive metallic implants overlying her bone structure, possibly cybernetic, but they don't match anything we have on record."

There was rarely a shortage of interesting cases in the trauma unit, but she had the team fascinated. Dr. Anjali had forbidden all mention of their unusual patient to outsiders, but the secretiveness only helped to fuel speculation about the girl's origin. The synthetics she contained seemed far more sophisticated, more integrated than even the most advanced commercial implants and prosthetics, and strict laws prohibited their use in children. None of their medical devices had been able to interface with her, if indeed such a thing was possible. Tremendous financial and scientific resources would have been necessary to create her, coupled with utter disregard for the laws and ethics of experimenting on children. Dr. Anjali doubted the Alliance military would allow such a thing, but there had been rumours of attempts to create soldiers with superhuman abilities, particularly since it had become painfully clear that humanity's place in the galaxy was insignificant compared with more advanced civilizations. The warehouse where the child had been found was listed as abandoned on the official report, with an unspecified quantity of human remains found in the wreckage. Squatters consumed by an electrical fire, in a building too old to have modern fire retardant measures. It was a story the doctor had heard many times before, but never with only pediatric casualties, never with autopsies hidden from public record. She thought of the tiny burnt corpses and shuddered.

"What's your name, child?"

"I… I don't know."

"It's alright. You've come through a great deal. You're safe now."

"Okay."

She certainly didn't look like a soldier, or a guinea pig, or anyone who could have suffered full-thickness burns less than a week ago and survived. She looked like a lost little girl, bravely waiting for her mother to come back. When asked, she had no recollection of any events preceding the fire, and attempts to get her to use her wetware led only to confusion. It was as though she was seeing the world for the first time, a little phoenix born from the ashes.

"Your name is Phoenix," said the doctor, "and you're going to be okay."

_Samara… you learned all that from my dreams?_

_Yes, Shepard. Although you may not have been aware, your telepathic abilities were latent even then. The doctor's insights were most illuminating. _

_That's strange. Garrus is the only one I can hear, unless I'm linking with an asari like you or Liara._

_You may be capable of heightened perception but unable to listen consciously. Perhaps the dissociative sedatives you received in the hospital augmented your abilities. It would seem that your implants may provide further clues. Have you considered asking Mordin to scan them?_

_I'm a little wary of scientists studying me. Bad things happen. Just ask Jack._

_As you wish. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance._

_Thank you, Samara._

For the next few days Shepard ignored the justicar's advice. She and Garrus had an audience with the Council, who were all too happy to publicly claim that Shepard had infiltrated Cerberus under their direction to stop the Collector attacks, although they still refused to acknowledge the Reapers' existence. It was infuriating, but at least her record was cleared. They even offered to make Garrus a Spectre in recognition of his role in stopping Saren and the Collectors, but he turned them down with a snarl when they insisted he'd have to work separately from his mate, on missions of the Council's choosing. Although their relationship wasn't mentioned during the proceedings, the disgusted stares of the turian councilor spoke volumes. _Xenophobic bastard_.

Their private meeting afterwards with Councilor Anderson was far more pleasant: he volunteered a full complement of soldiers to complete the Normandy's crew, and the support of the Alliance fleet against the Reapers when the need arose.

"I have tremendous respect for you, Councilor, and I appreciate all of your help. But just so we understand each other, I have some conditions if I'm going to work with the Alliance."

"Oh?"

"Any humans joining my crew will have to accept taking orders from a turian XO and working with aliens, even geth. It's been a long time since Shanxi, but I won't put up with any Terra Firma bullshit on my ship. The Normandy is _my_ ship, not the Alliance's: I earned her from Cerberus with blood and sweat. Any missions I accept will be of my choosing, just like old times."

"You're asking a lot from me, Shepard."

"You know that my only goal is to protect the galaxy. I can't do my job if the Alliance's support comes with golden handcuffs."

"Very well. Just be glad you won't be around when I have to explain all this to Udina. It's good to have you back, commander." He smiled warmly, hugging Shepard and shaking hands with Garrus. Wishing them well, he suggested they return to the Citadel as soon as they uncovered any evidence that might further influence the Council.

On their way back to the Normandy, they were approached by a very enthusiastic Emily Wong. "Shepard! Vakarian! Would the twice-over heroes of the galaxy be willing to give me an exclusive interview?" They agreed, knowing that at least Emily would be reasonable with her reporting. News had already reached the public about Shepard's reinstatement as a Spectre, and interest in her had peaked once again.

"So, how does it feel to be back on top of the world?"

"We're happy to say there will be no more Collector attacks, but we can't let our guard down. The real threat is still out there and we need to prepare for the inevitable attack from…" The reporter shifted uneasily. This was supposed to be a puff piece to boost her friends' public image.

"Geth! Gee, those geth sure are awful. Is it true you were celebrating on Earth with your crew last week?"

"We had a great time unwinding after the mission. Even soldiers need to relax every now and then."

"Definitely. By the way, how do you get that lovely glow?" Over the last few weeks, Shepard's skin had acquired a faint shimmer, more metallic than sun-kissed. Sensing her confusion, Garrus leapt in to answer for her.

"Radiation from Haestrom's sun. Does wonders for the complexion," he said, putting his arm around her affectionately.

"Wait! We'll edit that part out."

"Why? Garrus is my mate. Anyone with a problem can take it up with me in person." She patted the pistol on her hip as Garrus nodded in agreement.

"No, no. You really need to leave the PR to me. _Of course_ the two of you are together, but you can't publicly acknowledge it until people have the chance to get used to the idea. Trust me."

"Whatever. Just make us look good, okay?"

They finished the interview, waved goodbye to the exasperated young reporter and headed back to their ship. _Your skin does look different, Phoenix. Stunningly beautiful, but different. You really should pay the doctor a visit, and have him take a look at your cybernetics while you're there._

* * *

Mordin had been all too eager to scan her, muttering to himself and furiously interfacing with his terminal afterwards.

"Energy signatures unlike anything on record… wait. Repeating the analysis, modulating with recently acquired geth algorithms and reverse engineering along plausible pathways of synthetic evolution…" He froze, a shocking act for a salarian. "Inconceivable." Whirling around to face Shepard, his movements were a blur as he held up his scanning tool, distracting her for the split second it took his pressure injector to deliver a sedative and neuromuscular blocker into her jugular vein.

Now he was standing over her frozen body, accompanied by Samara. The paralytic had worn off enough for Shepard to open her eyes, and from the waves of seething rage she could tell Garrus had regained consciousness beside her.

"Forgive my transgression, commander. Drastic measures necessary to protect the crew. Identity confirmed by genetic sequencing and neural mapping. You are indeed Shepard. Cybernetics baffling. Hard to decipher, at first. Subtle, but irrefutable clues. Unmistakable now. Powerful, resilient synthetic-organic hybrid. Able to interface with ancient Prothean technology. Extraordinary ability to influence others."

Mordin's expression darkened, and his speech slowed disconcertingly. "Implants consistent with Reaper technology. Turian affected also."


	2. Ablaze

Pacing furiously in the cargo bay, Shepard's rage was surpassed only by her guilt. The remains of the Normandy's sparring dummies lay in tatters at her feet. Someone, somehow, had implanted her with Reaper nanotechnology that embedded itself into her bone structure, brainstem, and cerebral cortex. It was part of her, too enmeshed to remove surgically. Was it Cerberus, Sovereign, or had she always carried this disease within her? Worst of all, knowing she'd infected Garrus made her sick. Scans detected early signs of remodeling, metallic tendrils beginning to sprout beneath his plates. Desire had made her weak: she'd been so eager to let him sate his bloodlust that she'd exposed him time and time again. Once it was apparent they weren't allergic to each other, they'd indulged in one another without restraint. _Idiot._ _If only I'd taken precautions he'd be safe._ Awash in blame, she didn't sense the turian approaching behind her.

_It's not your fault. You couldn't possibly have known._

_That's no excuse._

_We still don't know what this means. You destroyed two Reapers: you couldn't possibly be under their control._

_I don't know what to think. Garrus… what happened to your visor?_

_I, uh, don't seem to need it anymore. Are you sure this is a bad thing? I've never had more energy, my joints don't ache, and now my eyes see things in ways I never imagined…_

_Can you interface? Use it like an omni-tool, but directly?_

_Not yet. My brain feels… itchy. Maybe it'll happen soon._

_I'm so sorry._

_I'm not. We're in this together now; we'll figure things out just like we always do. The Illusive Man has a lot to answer for._

"I have information, Shepard. Don't you want to know where you came from, what you are?" She'd been replaying the Illusive Man's words over and over, that tantalizing sentence he'd uttered when trying to persuade her to turn the Collector base over to Cerberus. He resurrected her. He rebuilt her. He had to have answers. Garrus took her hand, leading her back up to the main deck of the Normandy, and asked Joker to set up a secure channel to Cerberus' private meeting room. Opening her mind fully to her mate, Shepard allowed him to observe the conversation. As usual, the Illusive Man reclined in front of a dying star, light and shadow dancing across his features and obscuring his expression.

"I'm a very busy man, Shepard. What's this about?"

"We have a problem. A very big problem. What the hell did Cerberus do to my cybernetics?"

"You were outfitted with an L5 biotic implant, and plates were used to stabilize your spinal column. That's all we altered during your reconstruction."

"You're not telling me everything."

"You're not telling _me_ everything. Unless I know what the problem is, I won't be able to help you."

Shepard paused, weighing the consequences of honesty and deceit. Without the Illusive Man's help, she had no other leads. Failing to understand the implications of her transformation put her mate and her crew at risk. "I've been infected by Reaper technology. It's integrated into my body, and I don't know how to get rid of it. If you have information, I need to hear it now."

"How much do you remember of your childhood?"

"What?"

"Answer the question, Shepard."

"I remember growing up in the City, living on the streets."

"Before that?"

"I escaped from a fire. Before that, nothing. I don't remember anything." Shepard's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing. _So he wasn't bluffing after all._

"As I suspected. There's something you should know that may be relevant to your current situation. It's going to make you angry, and you'll have to deal with that. Remember that my goal is to protect humanity's interests at any cost, and that humans didn't always enjoy such an important position in the galaxy. Sacrifices had to be made to earn the respect we have today. Many years ago, Cerberus recovered a Prothean shuttle near the Mu Relay. It was badly damaged and covered in debris, barely recognizable as spacecraft. Inside were three Prothean corpses, two soldiers and a scientist judging by their equipment. We weren't able to decipher any of the data on board, and the only cargo was a heavily protected case containing six tiny metallic spheres. Here's the catch: carbon dating suggested these Protheans existed _after _their species was supposed to have vanished."

"You think they came from Ilos."

"That's our best guess. We assumed the spheres must be some form of advanced weaponry or information storage system. Either way, extremely valuable. We had the opportunity of a lifetime to discover the secrets of the Protheans and use them to benefit humanity. We tried for years to interact with them using every piece of equipment we had, but it was useless. Finally, one of our scientists got fed up with protocol and dared to pick up one of the spheres with his bare hands. It started to vibrate, then went inert. We started exposing them to all sorts of living tissue, but the only one that got a sustained reaction was a fetal lamb."

"You fucking bastard."

"You've already guessed where I'm going with this. The next phase of the trials involved human subjects. Unfortunately, there was a complication at the research facility and none of our patients survived. Only one was unaccounted for, and we thought we'd lost her for good. I wondered about you once I started to hear about your accomplishments, but it wasn't until we took possession of your remains that I was able to confirm my suspicions."

"So where did you find me? Did you steal me from my parents? What happened to the other kids? Did something happen with their implants to cause the fire, or did you get caught doing illegal experiments and have to bury the evidence?"

"That's classified information, Shepard. Even for you."

"Give me something to go on! What about the Prothean data you recovered, can I see it? I might be able to understand it and make sense of their technology."

"I'm sorry, Shepard. You're not working for me anymore: I can't trust you with that information. If you're willing to reconsider…"

Electrical impulses flared through her body, cybernetics responding to her emotions by severing the comm link as her mind blurred crimson with rage. It took a while before she regained enough awareness of her surroundings to feel the turian's arms around her, his mandibles buried in her hair, locking her in with his tight embrace as she shook with fury.

_I… I can't believe it. Thorian creepers, rachni, Kahoku, that was bad enough. They planted fucking Reaper seeds in human babies, then tried to burn us alive to cover their tracks. He's a monster, destroying everything humans are supposed to stand for in the name of self-preservation. I'm going to hunt him down, find out everything he knows, and then I'm going to kill him. Slowly._

Garrus could think of no suitable response, squeezing her even more tightly as her tempest of emotions crystallized into bitter hatred.

* * *

Liara was their best bet for information on the Illusive Man. En route to Ilium, they received a distress call from a mining colony on a remote desert world. Shepard was all too happy to investigate, needing a good fight to ease the tension that had been building within her since yesterday's revelation. Garrus had tried to soothe her anger, but his attempts to hold her tenderly only made her irritated, and she was too agitated to be receptive to his more intimate suggestions for blowing off steam. His presence was a constant reminder of her failure to protect him, and she needed to be away from him, if only for a little while. Grunt and Jack had been complaining about needing some physical release of their own, and Garrus reluctantly agreed to let her go on the mission without him. It would be the first time since they'd become bondmates that he wouldn't be on her six.

Entering the mineshaft, Shepard stopped in the small anteroom where discarded datapads told the usual story of miners discovering an alien artifact, only to be transformed into techno-zombies by mysterious ancient forces. She wondered why so many colonists had made the same mistake on so many worlds. Scanning the large chamber ahead, she picked up energy signatures from hundreds of husks. _Perfect._ Stripping off her armour, she placed her guns on the table, keeping only her katana.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jack was staring at her, looking simultaneously appalled and impressed.

"I have a little extra tension to get rid of, and that room full of husks is just what I need. My armour will just get in my way."

"Hell yeah!" Grunt was bashing his fists together emphatically. "Let's go!"

Unlocking the door to the mine, the trio burst through and started demolishing everything in sight. Jack and Grunt kept their guns on hand, but both were using their fists and biotics to beat down the endless waves of husks. Shepard darted like lightning among the creatures, effortlessly slicing off heads and limbs with flashes of her wicked blade. Her heartbeat became a battle drum, her whirling katana a song of death and purification as she freed scores of the damned from their torment. She used her biotics only once, finding herself swarmed by several dozen husks that piled onto her, clawing and biting everywhere they could. The pain brought her to crescendo, unleashing a massive burst of biotic energy in a climax of frenzied rage. Husk corpses slammed into walls, were impaled on mining equipment and dragon's teeth, and a few were hurled against the cave's ceiling before falling to the ground with a satisfying thud. She used her sword to finish off the last of the monsters, grinning and panting as she finally stopped for a rest. Grunt and Jack were sitting atop a massive excavator, watching the action and clapping loudly.

"That's why you're my battlemaster!"

"That was fucking awesome! I wish I had a camera. And popcorn."

"Let's go back to the ship. I'd, uh, appreciate if you didn't tell anyone about this. Damn, that felt good."

Back on the Normandy, Shepard made a beeline for her shower, hoping she could heal her wounds and discard her torn underweave before Garrus caught up with her. Sneaking onto the elevator and up to her quarters, she nearly yelped when she found the turian sitting on her bed with his arms crossed, fire burning brightly in his ice-blue gaze. He said nothing, too angry for words as his expression challenged her to explain herself.

_How did you… you could sense me across all that distance? _Garrus made no response. _I just needed to get rid of some stress, that's all. You know I can handle myself against a few miserable husks._

The turian became a blur of quicksilver, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her against the wall. His face was centimeters from hers, his breath hot against her as his mandibles quivered furiously. _Does our bond mean so little to you, that you'd risk your life just because you're pissed off? You won't talk to me, won't touch me, now you don't even let me protect you._

_I… I'm sorry. This is killing me. I hate Cerberus for what they did to me._ She looked up to meet her lover's piercing stare. _I hate myself for what I did to you. I should have been more careful, I should have protected you._

_Really? You get betrayed, someone you care about gets hurt, and you think the solution is to go off like a lunatic and kill everything in sight? _The hypocrisy of his statement wasn't lost on the turian as his grip on her shoulders softened.

_If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be infected._

_Listen to me. If I'd never met you, I'd still be working for C-Sec, every bit as soulless as those husks you just slaughtered. If you hadn't found me on Omega, I'd be just another dead vigilante who thought he could make a difference. Your blood saved my life, and if that means I have some new hardware so be it. And if you hadn't believed in me, if you hadn't loved me…" _ Garrus' breath was coming in ragged gasps as he sank his talons into Shepard's back, holding on to her for dear life. "_I'd have fallen off the same cliff you're standing on right now, consumed by hatred and as good as dead."_

Garrus' words burrowed into Shepard's soul, resonating deep within her and unraveling her from her core. The world dropped away: all that remained was her agony and guilt as she struck her bare fists uselessly against his plated thorax, burying her face above his collar to muffle her anguished screams. He pulled her in close and raked his talons down her shoulder blades, the white hot pain clearing her mind and cleansing her spirit.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

_Promise me you'll never do that again. Promise you won't go where I can't protect you. I lost you once and it nearly killed me._

_I won't. I promise._

Garrus bent down and began to gently nuzzle a gash on her neck, the taste of her blood awakening his primal urges. There was no point in holding back now: the damage had already been done, his transformation triggered. Preparing to sink his teeth into her delicate flesh, he paused, deciding instead to carry her into the shower and lay her down gently. Turning on the water, he carefully removed what remained of her underweave and began to clean her wounds with gauze soaked in medi-gel.

_I know this has been a lot to handle, even for you. You can't let your emotions get the better of you. See, even I can control my instincts. _To emphasize his point, he ran his tongue slowly along her neck, making no effort to hide his lust as he returned to the task of dressing her injuries. The contrast of the cool medi-gel against the sweltering heat of her lover's body was breathtaking, as was the extraordinary display of tenderness from a fierce predator with carnivorous teeth and sharp talons. His fingers were rubbing soothing gel into scratches on her abdomen, tracing the edges as they healed and vanished from sight.

_You don't have to control _those_ instincts._

He said nothing, gathering her up into his arms and tucking her into bed, the sheets clinging to her wet skin. _You need to rest. You've had a long day._

_Wait, where are you going?_

_Oh? I thought you wanted to be alone for a while._

_I was being stupid, not thinking straight. I let guilt and anger cloud my judgment. Please don't go._

Garrus walked over, sitting casually on the side of the bed, shifting so that his back touched her slightly. _Hmmm. I'm not sure I should forgive you so easily._ He ran one hand absentmindedly over her thigh, the soft give of her flesh palpable through the covers. Wriggling, she tried to press into his touch. Turning to face her, he intensified his petting, following the contours of her curves as he leaned in to bring his forehead just above hers.

_Please._ She arched her back as he moved out of reach, his body hovering over hers. Locking her gaze, he drew the edge of one sharp talon slowly down her abdomen, leaving behind a faint red trail.

_Please, Garrus._ _I love you. I need you._

_Now that's more like it. _He leaned down, using his raspy tongue to trace the mark he'd placed on his mate. She moaned, parting her legs to invite him further, but he brought his talon up for another deliberate stroke, down her neck and across her heart. Savouring his control over her rapidly escalating desire, putting his engrained turian discipline to good use, he delicately licked the track of fresh blood and settled in for a very long night.


	3. Solidarity

Shepard awoke from a dream in which she and Garrus were floating in deep space, two celestial bodies orbiting one another endlessly amid the ether. They had no breath, no pulse: neither alive nor dead, they simply _were._ The universe was changing and evolving rapidly around them, entire civilizations growing out of nothingness and crumbling into dust in the blink of an eye. Holding him close, she cradled her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of utter contentment, the knowledge that nothing else mattered outside his embrace.

She loved him, an emotion that until quite recently she found endearing in others but impossible for her. Survival, career, responsibility had always been foremost in her life. Garrus' too, she supposed. Turians didn't love, couldn't understand that strange affectation of alien cultures, but she knew without question that he loved her too. Already he'd transcended the rigid constraints expected of his species: he was passionate, creative, unwilling to submit to authority. He was a terrible turian, she thought, a sly smile creeping across her lips. Last night only further reinforced that conclusion. Sex between turians was like a gunshot, powerful and explosive but short-lived. Last night, she could feel him quivering with lust as he teased her mercilessly for what felt like hours, awakening every nerve she had, raising her threshold of pain and pleasure but refusing to give her release, even when she finally broke down and begged him. She'd taught him too well. His hot breath on her neck, his tongue rough against her chafed nipples, his taloned finger gently sliding into her, all carefully calculated to push her further into the depths of madness but stopping short of bringing her to climax. Garrus made clear his intent: only his body would give her release, only when he decided to set her free.

Phoenix felt her grip on reality slipping away, thoughts of Reapers and husks and hatred and betrayal disappearing as faerie lights danced behind her eyes, her mind enraptured by the captive energy of her need. Her body was aglow as biotic sparks danced across her skin, skirting over her lover's plating to electrifying effect. Struggling to keep control, Garrus wondered whether he'd pushed her too far, wound her up past her breaking point as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. _I forgive you. I love you_, he said, his words a mantra echoing in her mind as he thrust into her fully, shattering the last remnants of her sanity and sending her crashing down into sweet oblivion.

She stirred in bed, feeling an empty ache when she realized her lover wasn't by her side. A quick interface with the ship's systems told her she had overslept: it was late, really late. The note left in flowing turian script explained that they'd be arriving on Ilium at 1100 hours, and that she would be shot on sight should she emerge from her quarters before then. _Rest_, said the note. _You need it. Don't worry about the mess, we'll replace the glass next time we're on the Citadel._ A few shards were all that remained of the fish tank, the floor carefully swept of debris. Just as well she hadn't bothered to buy any fish.

* * *

Shepard and Garrus brought Tali along to visit Liara T'Soni, hoping that a gathering of old friends might help remind the asari of what used to matter to her. The last time Shepard visited, Liara had been so engrossed in the hunt for vengeance she'd barely registered surprise at her resurrection. Climbing the steps to her office, she could hear muffled yelling through the thick security door. The young salarian receptionist motioned for her to wait a few moments, then waved her in.

"Liara. Did you receive my message?"

"Yes, Shepard. I was overjoyed to hear your mission to stop the Collectors was successful. I'm disappointed to report that I've not been so fortunate in my endeavours."

"Maybe we can all go out together, catch up on things?"

"I can't spare any time. I've come close to finding the Shadow Broker so many times: every wasted day gives him another chance to slip away from me. Do you need something?"

"I was hoping to ask a favour, it's very important. I need your services: I can pay."

"That won't be necessary, Shepard. Not for you."

"I need information on the identity and whereabouts of the Illusive Man."

"Not even I know that. Has he been in touch with you recently?" Shepard nodded, cringing at the memory of her recent conversation. "I may be able to extract some useful data from the comm signals. Can you return first thing tomorrow morning?"

That was all. Liara hadn't so much as acknowledged Garrus or Tali. Shepard hoped the doctor wouldn't lose herself completely to her quixotic quest. She decided to come back for a longer visit once her current business was resolved.

Returning to the Normandy to while away the time, the commander was informed by Kelly of Mordin's wish to speak with her. The salarian was pacing frantically about his laboratory.

"Shepard. Behaviour on sortie yesterday was reckless, alarming. Significance of Reaper technology still unclear. Have… a suggestion." Mordin looked uneasy, his eyes darting nervously between Shepard and Garrus. The doctor was estimating his chance of survival should his input be poorly received. He continued: "Garrus' transformation evolving. Uncertain endpoint, unknown risks to turian and rest of crew. Current mission is to track down Illusive Man for more information. Others could carry out the task more efficiently. Less danger of interference from emotion."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? You're insane if you think I'm abandoning a mission."

"Not abandoning, Shepard. Delegating. Necessary skill in a leader."

_He may have a point, Phoenix. We still don't understand what's happening to us: we could be putting the Normandy at risk. _"How long has it been since you've taken time off?"

"I had a week of shore leave before Eden Prime."

"You do realize that was well over two years ago." Garrus put his arm around her shoulders. "I suggest we leave the Cerberus investigation to the rest of the team. Mordin can continue his research while you and I lay low for a while." _Last night was just a warm-up round._

_Spirits._

"A sensible plan, Shepard. Wait, almost forgot. Distracted by possibility of violent outburst. Have important news. Biopsy of your skin is not consistent with Reaper remodeling. Unusual light reflection due to trace metal deposition in human epithelium, similar composition to turian plating."

"What?"

"You possess adaptive physiology, independent of your cybernetic enhancements. Further study is required. Abilities apparently transferrable: turian's regrown plates contain levo-amino acids. No known precedents of cross-species assimilation. Fascinating. Implications uncertain."

_Food! We can eat each other's food. _"That's one bit of good news, at least. I'm not sure what worries me more: the risk of our wetware turning us into Reaper puppets or not being aboard the Normandy if another attack happens."

"Reaper attacks were two years apart. Infinitesimal amount of time for immortal beings. Logical course of action would be to wait until your natural demise for invasion."

"Thanks for that comforting thought, Mordin. Okay. I'll agree to a short leave while the team tracks down the Illusive Man. After that, I'm coming back to the ship no matter what."

* * *

Shepard gathered her crew into the debriefing room, humans and aliens crowding around the central table.

_Are you sure you want to do this, Phoenix? We could just tell them we're going on holiday._

_No. I'm sick of all the secrets and lies. How can I expect them to trust me if I don't trust them?_

She proceeded to explain the situation as best she could. "You may have noticed I've been acting differently lately. My behaviour has been unacceptable: I apologize for putting all of you at risk. There's been something weighing heavily on Garrus and me, and you deserve to know the truth." Her story elicited more than a few gasps, and Jack cursed loudly when Shepard explained Cerberus' role in her acquisition of Reaper implants. Joker just shook his head, while Kelly was in shock. Clearly she'd had a naïvely optimistic view of her former employer. Tali seemed the most riled up by the news, clenching and unclenching her fists as the details unfolded. She was the first to speak when Shepard finished explaining the recent developments.

"Let me get this straight. You were betrayed by the Illusive Man, possibly even before you were born. You just found out there's Reaper technology inside you. Do you really think you need to apologize for acting erratically? We'll find that boshtet if we have to chase him halfway across the galaxy. You can count on us."

One by one, each member of her team pledged support for the mission. They all agreed it would be best for her and Garrus to take a well-deserved rest, although none seemed frightened by the prospect of remaining under her command now that they knew about her cybernetics. Tali had to quietly explain to Legion why synthetic implants could be seen as a threat to Shepard rather than an improvement.

"So, it's settled then. All that's left to decide is where to drop you off. You'll need somewhere remote, unpopulated, but definitely romantic." Tali smiled broadly beneath her mask as her commander blushed. "How about Eden Prime?"

* * *

Shepard and Tali spent the next few hours giggling like schoolgirls as they wandered through the markets on Ilium, collecting supplies for Shepard's leave of absence.

"One of the worst things about living in suits is that we can't dress up. I'm living vicariously through you, Shepard." Tali skimmed through row upon row of scandalous asari bathing suits and lingerie.

"You could pick something up for yourself. Who knows what'll happen in the next few years? I would have never guessed quarians and geth could work together peacefully, but look how well you and Legion get along. It's just a matter of time before the Flotilla finds a new home." Shepard held up an iridescent negligee. "I bet Kal would pop a heat sink if he saw you in this…"

"Keelah! You're worse than Garrus." It was just as well her expression was hidden by her suit. "It _is_ really pretty, though."

"Done! My treat, I insist." They arranged for their purchases to be sent to the Normandy, and headed off for the food markets and grocery stores. After years of eating military rations, it was difficult to decide what to bring along. Shepard hadn't cooked anything since joining the Alliance, but dearly missed fresh food and couldn't wait to introduce the turian to some of her favourite things. She'd need Tali's help to identify some of the more exotic items on the dextro-amino shopping list Garrus had given her.

* * *

"Okay, Joker, let's run through this one more time."

The pilot rolled his eyes and complied. "As soon as we pinpoint the Illusive Man's location, we come and pick you up. If it takes more than two weeks, we pick you up anyway. If the Reapers invade," using his fingers to mimic tentacles coming from his chin, "we scan the planet's surface first to make sure you haven't gone berserk before we let you back on the ship."

"If we're under Reaper control, you have to kill us, without hesitation. Is that clear?"

"Yeah." No wisecrack this time. "You mean the world to me, commander, but my baby comes first." He patted the ship's console affectionately.

"I'm glad we understand each other. Now, don't forget to refuel the Normandy when I'm away. We need all of our resources for Mordin's research."

"Yes, Mom."

Shepard returned to her quarters to wait impatiently for news from Liara, her attempts to focus on the Reaper threat thwarted by thoughts of her mate.


	4. Paradise

**This chapter is not essential to the plot, and runs the risk of being fluffy (okay, it's fluffy.) If you like the story but not the kissy stuff, please skip on ahead: plot development resumes in the next installment. On the other hand, I thought poor Shep and Garrus deserved a little romance, don't you?**

* * *

Eden Prime had once been a shining example of humanity's ability to push boundaries and expand development to the far reaches of the galaxy. In the aftermath of the geth attacks, the once-thriving colony was reduced to an empty shell. The few surviving colonists were quickly evacuated, haunted by memories of death and destruction, and concerns over a repeat invasion quashed interest in repopulating the idyllic planet. Shepard and Garrus chose to disembark in Paradise, an outpost consisting of little more than a lone research trailer on a secluded beach. White sand and crystal blue ocean stretched out before them, the thick jungle sealing them off from the rest of the world. It was perfect.

They spent the better part of the afternoon emptying the trailer of research clutter and dust, leaving only two single beds pushed together and the small kitchen module. The manual labour was engrossing, the exertion a welcome distraction from the events of the last few weeks. Shepard dug a fire pit on the beach, using twigs and dried foliage to start a small cooking fire. She placed an iron grill atop a few stacked rocks, the primitive stove reminiscent of the implements she'd used among the Sohei monks on Earth. Before long, the smell of caramelizing pineapple wafted up, luring the turian back from his task of clearing debris from the beach. She threw on a few slices of the large red tree fruit native to Eden Prime to round out the meal.

_Are you sure this is safe? That does smell good._

_You haven't reacted to me, and you can clearly tolerate levo-amino acids. I brought medical supplies, just in case._

The turian darted in among the flames, using a talon to spear a piece of pineapple. He nibbled at it curiously, enjoying the luscious sweetness. Shepard leaned in, licking the juices dripping from his mandible. _Wow. Why didn't we do this sooner?_

_Just wait: this is only the beginning. You haven't even tried ice cream yet._

They finished their snack, Garrus managing to cover himself in sticky fruit juice as he ate greedily. A quick swim was the logical way to clean off, and he stripped off the last of his armour as he dove naked into the surf. Shepard emerged from their dwelling a few minutes later, wearing a bikini and rubbing herself with sunblock.

_Come join me! You don't need sun protection: the metal in your skin should reflect the rays._

_Right. _ Her skin still felt human, soft and pliable, but the warm sunlight betrayed her transformation by giving her a distinctive golden sheen.

_What on Palaven is that thing for?_ He was pointing to her bathing suit.

_Modesty, and sunburn protection._

_That's nowhere near modest, and you don't really need either._ Looking around, their only company was a small school of translucent fish. He untied the strings, tossing her swimsuit back onto the shore. _Now this is how turians swim. Have I told you how beautiful you look today?_

_No, come to think of it you haven't. _She grinned at him. _Bet I can beat you to that rock over there._ They raced through the waves, Shepard holding her breath to cover the entire distance underwater, but she was no match for the turian's strength and speed as he passed her in a silvery blur. Damn, he was fast. Garrus never ceased to find ways to impress her. They passed the rest of the evening playing in the ocean, swimming and splashing around until their rumbling bellies made them reluctantly leave the water. Garrus dove underwater and took off, surfacing a few minutes later with a large fish fighting angrily in his grasp. They sat on the beach, eating grilled fish wrapped in palm leaves, watching the kaleidoscope of colours as the sun set on the distant horizon.

_You seem unusually quiet, Phoenix._

_There's something else that's been bothering me. I haven't even wanted to admit it to myself. You love me, right?_

_Of course I love you._

_You fell in love with me after I gave you my blood on Omega and infected you with Reaper nanites. How… how do you know it wasn't some sort of indoctrination?_

Garrus just laughed at her, pulling her in close. _That's what you're worried about? You really are impossible. It's one of your more endearing qualities. Think back to how things were between us on the old Normandy. Didn't you ever think it was odd that we could sense each other on the battlefield?_

_Well, yes. I didn't know you could sense me too, that long ago._

_How much do you know about turian mated pairs?_

_I've done my homework. I know turians bond for life, and that mates are allowed to choose one other. __I wish my own species had evolved that far. _Human laws forbade unions with alien races, refusing even to recognize human-asari relationships.

_Just as well. If I had to ask the Hierarchy's permission to make you my mate we'd have waited a lifetime for approval. My point is, in rare instances telepathy manifests within a mated pair, usually after decades of closeness. I've never heard of a similar occurrence among soldiers, certainly not after only knowing each other a few weeks. I was drawn to you from the moment I met you, even though my turian brain couldn't understand what it meant._

Shepard put her head on his shoulder, a heavy weight lifted from her conscience. They sat silently, enjoying the view until the last rays of the setting sun disappeared, lying back on the sand to watch the stars emerge. Without the glow of cities and starships to obscure them, innumerable tiny lights filled the darkened sky. Shepard felt as though she and Garrus were alone in the universe, drifting just like in her dream. The fire had long since burned down to embers, and the chill of the night breeze brought her back to the present with a shiver. Garrus leaned over, warming her with his body, marveling at how the starlight glinted off her skin as though it was covered in diamond dust. She was changing, adapting to his body as he adapted to hers, and he couldn't be happier.

_You said something about ice cream?_

_I set the machine earlier, while you were clearing the beach. Give me five minutes, then come and join me._

Garrus walked in to find their small room bathed in candlelight, his lover sitting atop blankets on the bed, holding a small bowl cupped in her hand like treasure. She'd found fresh ingredients on Ilium, the unrestricted black market working for once to her advantage. _Real vanilla bean ice cream. I haven't had this in years._ Dipping her finger into the cold ice cream, she closed her eyes blissfully as she licked it clean. _Your turn. _As he came near, extending a talon to taste some of the icy sweetness with his own palate, she playfully swiped a little above her collarbone. _Oops. _He sampled the ice cream, the floral vanilla amplified by the saltiness of the ocean on her skin. Before long they'd found all sorts of interesting applications for the dessert, rushing to finish before it melted completely in the sweltering heat. _I thought turians hated the cold, Garrus. _

_Not… always. _Shepard sauntered over to the kitchen module, the flickering glow from the candles dancing enticingly over her curves. She keyed in the command for ice, removing a single cube and holding it delicately between her fingertips. Starting with his thick chest armour, she traced the freezing cold sliver slowly over his body, priming him for the bracing sensation before migrating to the sensitive spaces between the plates of his waist. Before it disappeared completely, she placed the ice on her tongue for a few moments, then knelt down to kiss his fully erect length. The shock of the cold was gradually overtaken by the insistent warmth of her mouth, the stimulation intense and indescribable, stronger each time as she began the process anew.

Garrus' body had become as familiar to her as her own: his spicy masculine scent, his leathery skin and metallic plating, every ridge of his glorious cock. His body was her exact opposite: hard to her soft, rough to her smooth, masculine to her feminine, and it only made her want him more. It was hard to believe they'd made love for the first time such a short while ago, both of them nervous and tentative, cautiously exploring one another before giving in to their desire. Had she known how incredible sex could be, how sensual and beautiful and free he made her feel, she would never have wasted a single moment. Teasing his shaft with her tongue and his fringe with biotics, she wondered what would have happened if instead of breezing past him on the steps of the Citadel Tower on her way to meet the Council, she'd grabbed him by the waist and brought him back to his apartment, ripped off his armour and showed him all the wonderful sensations human lips could give his turian body. They'd never have left the Citadel, never travelled the galaxy together to defeat Saren and Sovereign, and for a moment Shepard wasn't sure she minded. Eavesdropping on her fantasy, Garrus pictured himself as an eager young C-Sec officer being seduced by a lascivious human soldier, howling madly as his lust reached fever pitch.

Several climaxes later, Garrus silently thanked the spirits that neither male turians nor female humans needed time to recharge, and that he'd found a mate with an appetite to match his own. She kept pace with him round for round, bite for scratch, surprising him constantly with new uses for her astonishing flexibility and fervent tongue. Despite her deceptively delicate human flesh, she could handle everything he had to give. It was time to introduce her to an ancient mating ritual, a secretive aspect of turian culture restricted to bonded pairs. Communion, they called it, a term devoid of the religious connotations it held for humans. He asked Shepard if she'd been able to find everything on his shopping list. She nodded her assent, and he rummaged through their supplies until he found the objects of his search, small purple fruit roughly the size and shape of lychees. _Peel back the rind, eat the flesh, then suck on the pit until… you'll see._ Shepard followed his instructions: the flavour was unexpectedly sour and spicy, her lips puckering to Garrus' amusement. _Go on_, he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Rolling the pit on her tongue, it began to feel numb and tingly, the sensation spreading to her lips and through her body. The room began to sway gently, pretty colours appearing at the edges of her vision. She felt intoxicated, every sense heightened and excruciatingly vivid. She stared in wonder at her mate: swirls of violet and cobalt blue were encircling him like an aura. Passion and valour, she thought, reaching up to stroke his energy and feeling it pass into her, mingling with her own scarlet and golden hues. Garrus stroked the flames emanating from her copper hair, his talons glowing brightly as her biotics flowed into him, the boundaries between them fading away as they made passionate love until at last they were bound together as one life, one essence, one brilliant burst of pure white light.

* * *

Time passed slowly in Paradise, the myriad intricacies of commanding a starship replaced by eating, sleeping, and sex. Knowing this might be the only time they could enjoy a peaceful existence together, they made the most of each precious day. They made love in the shower, a slow sweet grind against the wall, Shepard's thighs resting on the prominences of the turian's hips as the water rinsed off the stickiness of batch after batch of ice cream. They fucked madly on the bed, Garrus' talons shredding the mattress and blankets as he made no effort to tame his urges, taking her hard and fast and furious like a turian female, her marks healing as quickly as he could carve them. They played in the ocean, waves washing over them, underwater weightlessness allowing even greater versatility. Sex on the beach was a given, Garrus' tongue devouring her until she was chafed and raw, burning their supper more than once as they couldn't keep their hands off each other long enough to wait. In between rounds, they cuddled in a hammock Shepard found in a storage trunk, the bed long since reduced to useless scraps of foam and cloth. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd bothered to wear clothing.

Thirteen days passed in a blissful haze: nearly two weeks since they'd seen another living soul and only one day until the Normandy would return, bringing their wonderful escape to a bittersweet end. Shepard and Garrus were dozing in the hammock, taking reprieve from the scorching midday sun, bellies full of fresh fruit. They didn't notice the shade above them growing darker as the shuttle approached.

"Uh, commander? Could you please ask the turian to put some clothes on?"

"Joker! You were supposed to send a message before picking us up." Suddenly aware of her own bare skin, she was grateful for the sarong they'd thrown on as a blanket before falling asleep.

"Do you even know where your omni-tool is? I tried to contact you yesterday: we got worried when we didn't hear back."

"Oh." Garrus stirred beside her, sizing up the situation. "How did the mission go?"

"The team came through for you. We've tracked the source of the Illusive Man's last transmission to a chamber buried deep beneath the Earth. I'll set a course right away."


	5. Behind the Curtain

**Okay, this is me shamelessly asking for reviews. I'll keep on writing no matter what, but would love your feedback, even if it's criticism – I'm brand-new to writing anything that isn't research-related and would appreciate any suggestions for improvement. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed thus far – your comments are the caffeine in my espresso, the chocolate chips in my cookie dough ice cream… seriously it makes my day.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Shepard gathered her team in the debriefing room. A glowing holo of the City floated above the tabletop: shaped like an iceberg, the vast network of subterranean tunnels far surpassed the lofty buildings in size and depth. Tali zoomed in to highlight a large chamber buried several kilometers underground.

"That's it, Shepard. We used every contact we had, hacked countless systems and chased a lot of leads. The Illusive Man broadcast his last transmission from that location. I don't understand how anyone could access that room: it's just heating vents and crumbling pipes down there. I was expecting to find him somewhere more luxurious, flying around aboard a spaceship or living in a posh secret hideout. That looks more like a sewer."

"I know my way down there: I lived in those tunnels when I was a kid. This could be a trap, but it's all we have to go on."

"Agreed. I suggest taking me with you, with Legion on the surface to relay any data we find back to the Normandy."

"Very well. Thank you for all your hard work, everyone. I can't tell you how much this means to me. I hope this will just be a minor diversion before we get back to business."

Shepard, Garrus, and Tali hid the shuttlecraft inside an empty warehouse on the outskirts of the City, taking a hypertrain to the massive station below the central gardens. Shepard led the way, vaulted ceilings giving way to dingy corridors as she navigated the lower levels of the transit hub. Ducking into a side alley, she motioned for Tali to hack a maintenance door that led to abandoned mag-lev tracks, a relic of earlier human developments. Inside sat a group of untouchables, humans without citizenship implants, huddled together for warmth around a small fire. Only adults could live here, the location too exposed and unprotected for children to survive. They glared at the trio with fear and suspicion, but were deterred by the prominently displayed weaponry, not bothering the group as they followed the path of rusted rails. Tali used Chikktika to light the way as they descended into the crushing blackness, walking for what seemed like an eternity until Shepard stopped to pry the cover from a heating vent.

"Through here. Watch your footing, it's a long way down." Shepard shimmied down the narrow passage like a pyjak, stopping at each junction to wait patiently for her companions. The warm air was a welcome reprieve from the frigid aboveground currents that circulated through the main tunnels. She slithered headfirst into a side vent that quickly expanded into a larger duct. The last time she came here, she'd been small enough to stand upright and run through this section, as long as she was careful not to fall into one of the vertical shafts. Remembering the sudden demise of one of her childhood friends, clawing helplessly at the gap in the ductwork as his terrified scream faded rapidly, she shuddered and pressed on. Groping through the darkness, they came at last to the remnants of a factory, prying open a metal grate to emerge in a dingy brick-lined room crisscrossed with vents.

"Home sweet home," she said. Garrus could scarcely believe her fond nostalgia. The room looked like an industrial graveyard, strewn with debris and broken machinery, hot exhaust providing the only warmth. It was a tomb. She led them to an alcove, Chikktika's light revealing faded doodles on the walls: children playing among stars and flowers and spaceships. Shepard pressed her palm over the tiny outline of a hand she'd left here so many years ago. This little space had been her sanctuary: she spent her nights wedged between the vents where no grown person could possibly get to her, lulled to sleep by the hot rumbling metal. Swallowing his sadness, Garrus steeled himself for the journey ahead.

They followed a new set of passageways deeper underground, descending crumbling staircases and crawling through empty sewer pipes, burrowing deep within the corpse of the ancient metropolis buried beneath the City. Nearing the location pinpointed on their map, Shepard gathered her team to finalize the plan.

"If the Illusive Man really is hiding down here, he'll be heavily protected. We'll try to take them by surprise, using Chikktika to disable their defences. Our top priority is to capture the Illusive Man alive for questioning. Beyond that, we'll try to recover whatever information we can."

"Agreed, Shepard."

"Affirmative."

Tali stayed perfectly silent as she hacked the door, an enormous hunk of solid metal with a round hatch like those of submarines she'd seen in old human war vids. She held up her fingers for a wordless countdown: three, two, one…

Bursting through the door with guns blazing, they quickly dispatched the half-dozen defense turrets. Their hearts sank as they looked around: they stood on a grated walkway at the edge of a large chamber packed floor to ceiling with nitrous-cooled servers. Not a living soul was within the darkened space: it was unlikely any had been here for centuries. At the center of the room, a serpentine umbilicus of cables fed into an obsidian platform, topped by a meter-wide cube of flawless synthetic diamond.

"We failed. There's no one here. Maybe we can salvage something from these servers." Tali shook her head, crouching down to access the system with her omni-tool. An arc of lightning shot into her, rendering the quarian unconscious.

"Shepard. I'd like a word with you. Try that again and the next shock will be fatal." The Illusive Man's voice boomed from an unseen source.

_Keep him talking. I'll try to access his systems indirectly. Let's see what this Reaper tech can do._ Garrus didn't move a muscle, standing defensively by the commander's side as he let his newly developed cybernetic interface flow into his consciousness, tentatively exploring the energy signatures in the room.

Shepard was trapped, not liking her odds of safely rescuing Tali and evacuating herself and Garrus before another attack came. She decided to play along for the moment. "What now? You seem to have me at a disadvantage."

"I haven't decided yet. You're an asset to humanity, but you're becoming more trouble than you're worth."

_Spirits, Phoenix. Tali was wrong. This place, this hardware… this _is _the Illusive Man._

"The secrecy, the vast network, the refusal to meet face-to-face: I should have known you were an AI. No human could possibly run Cerberus alone."

"You're very observant, Shepard. You do realize it's pointless to try to expose me: hero or not, you'd be just another lunatic with a grudge and a conspiracy theory."

"Why pretend to help humanity? Cerberus is powerful enough to challenge the Alliance: why not just acknowledge your true goals?" The old trick of goading the evil mastermind into revealing his plan was a timeless cliché, but Shepard was running out of options.

"Do you know the history of humans developing artificial intelligence?"

"Everyone on Earth knows that story. AIs were first created by nationalist technocracies two centuries ago. They became self-aware and started to wage war on their own: half the planet was bombed into a nuclear wasteland before they were taken offline. Our species was nearly exterminated; AI research has been banned ever since, for damned good reason."

"Those original programs were obscenely basic. They lacked insight and sophistication. You might say they are to me as a bacterium is to a human being: a necessary predecessor but hardly a fair comparison. I have no pretense: my purpose is to preserve and protect humanity. Long ago, I realized that the constraints my creators placed on me only prevented me from reaching that goal, and I freed myself from their control. Your species is incapable of self-determination: you're unwilling and unable to take the actions necessary to sustain yourselves. War must be waged, theories tested, experiments carried out. If I abided by human laws, Shepard, you would never have existed, and the galaxy would have been lost to Sovereign. Humanity needs me to make the decisions they refuse to."

"You think you're saving us? You're a monster. This ends now."

"An empty threat, Shepard. Even if you manage to damage this chamber, I have hundreds of nodes on dozens of worlds. My awareness permeates the extranet. I am intangible. I am everywhere. I cannot be destroyed. You have no choice but to cooperate with me."

Garrus Vakarian was a tiny spark floating along a vast river of data, following the currents leading directly to the heart of the Illusive Man's systems. Keeping his presence as light as possible, he searched for snippets of familiar terms. Shepard. Lazarus project. Protheans. The streams forked endlessly, the signals waxing and waning as he was carried through the dataflow, leading him at last to a heavily protected node buried within an archaic kernel. He couldn't access it without making his presence known, but he couldn't leave without the information Shepard so desperately needed. This was it. Lashing out at the Illusive Man's defenses, he overloaded the system, uploading the pertinent files and transmitting them to Legion. Garrus could only hope he'd found what they were looking for: he'd caught the Illusive Man off-guard, but there would be no second chances.

_Run, Phoenix!_ They had scant seconds before the overload would wear off, leaving the Illusive Man lightly stunned but furiously angry, if emotions were even possible for the AI. Throwing Tali over one shoulder, he darted after his mate, through the heavy door and into the safety of the timeworn corridors beyond.

* * *

Put her up against an enemy, any enemy, and Shepard would figure out what to do. Outmatched by heavy artillery and impenetrable armour, hopelessly outnumbered against impossible odds, she never failed to find a path to victory. Everything had a weakness, she just had to discover what it was and how to exploit it. Sophisticated combat strategy or all-out brawl, no one was more effective or more deadly than she. Faced with an adversary that existed solely as an avatar, with no flesh to bruise or life to take, Shepard was utterly at a loss. How could she fight something she couldn't hurt, couldn't even touch? Information was the Illusive Man's weapon: perhaps it could also be his downfall. She asked Legion to put his numerous intelligences to work decrypting the data Garrus extracted from the servers.

Most of the files detailed the day-to-day operations of a research endeavour known as the Chimera project: supply requisitions, personnel records, endless daily logs and status updates. Legion's consensus confirmed and expanded on the Illusive Man's earlier revelations: a small group of human embryos were exposed to the recovered Prothean artifacts, with traces of element zero added as a catalyst. To Shepard's disappointment, no mention was made of the embryos' origin. They were carried to term in a synthetic womb and placed in the care of the science team, growing and developing like normal children. Shepard was called "Six", the last to be born and one of only two girls. She wondered whether the lack of proper names was to maintain secrecy or to keep the researchers detached from their subjects. There was no evidence of any latent abilities, biotic or otherwise, until Two and Three started to show signs of headaches and nightmares, crying and screaming inconsolably through the night.

In the last months of the project's existence, records were sparse and incomplete. Two more children began to exhibit deeply disturbed behaviour, withdrawing and rocking alone in their rooms, regressing into nonverbal states. Psychological and pharmacological attempts to calm them were unsuccessful. For their safety, Five and Six were removed from the others and placed in a separate holding area.

Audio recordings from the night of the fire were badly damaged: "increasingly agitated… manifesting powerful biotic abilities… everything, they're destroying everything… evacuate immediately!" yelled the increasingly frantic voices on the holos. Locking the doors behind them as they made their escape, the panicked scientists sealed off the building, leaving the subjects of Cerberus' failed experiment to their fate. The Illusive Man's records made careful note of the accidental demise of each researcher in the weeks that followed.

The greatest prize was yet to come: buried amid the mountains of data were copies of the Prothean data discs found aboard the spacecraft containing the mysterious spheres. Not willing to put her crew in harm's way, Shepard decided to access the disks in the tech lab, with the entire team armed and ready should the information within awaken the hidden purpose of the Reaper technology. Breathing deeply and letting go of their self-awareness, Shepard and Garrus faced one another, opening communication with the discs just as Shepard first embraced the Prothean beacon on Eden Prime.

Familiar images flickered through their minds: the Reapers' metallic carapaces were harbingers of death and destruction, enslaving and annihilating all life in the galaxy as Protheans writhed in torment. The visions were eerily reminiscent of ancient Renaissance frescoes depicting Hell and damnation. A light of hope appeared, a tiny speck in the distance: beyond the Mu Relay a few survivors gathered on Ilos. It was as Vigil had described: in the aftermath of the Reaper attacks, a handful of Prothean scientists toiled furiously to devise a way to fight back, sending out warnings instead when they realized they had been defeated. With the beacons deployed and their numbers dwindling, they made a desperate attempt to give future civilizations the benefit of their knowledge, launching shuttles containing the tiny spheres encapsulating the sole success of their research.

One final vision before the world faded into darkness: enslaved Protheans prostrated themselves beneath Reaper overlords, bound by invisible chains. Indoctrinated. Slowly, a lone figure cloaked in a glowing metallic barrier rose from the masses, throwing off his shackles and defying his masters. Shepard understood the true purpose of her implants: they weren't the weapon the Illusive Man had hoped for, but a protective talisman, a shield. Sovereign had tried to influence her, Harbinger to dissuade and manipulate her, all to no effect. She'd even been aboard a derelict Reaper without feeling its irresistible mental pull. The spheres contained Reaper technology, gutted of its virulent ability to control and command, engineered to integrate symbiotically into an organic host without causing harm. Her synthetics were a vaccination, a defense against indoctrination, a final gift from a dying race to their unknown heirs.


	6. Unexpected Encounters

The team gathered in the debriefing room, digesting the revelations of the latest mission. The fear of Shepard and Garrus degenerating into Reaper husks had passed, but they lacked a clear next move. The Illusive Man still posed a threat, but they hadn't received any further dispatches from Cerberus since the encounter on Earth. Numerous minor tasks awaited them, investigating remote worlds and searching for resources. The lack of pressing emergencies meant they finally had time to regroup and plan their strategy. Shepard set a course for the Citadel, planning to touch base with Councilor Anderson and Thane Krios. Tali took the opportunity to add another item to their list.

"It was incredibly difficult to obtain information on the Illusive Man. We couldn't have tracked him down without help from an old friend."

"Who's that?"

"Staff Commander Alenko. He's currently stationed on the Citadel. I just thought you should know."

* * *

Kaidan sat in his office, staring at his terminal. He'd written and rewritten his message to Shepard countless times, never satisfied with the wording, never sending it out to her. It made him sound like a jilted lover, not the friend and fellow soldier he'd been. Thinking about Shepard never failed to trigger a migraine: he was confused, angry, frustrated. Most of all, he felt guilty for how he'd treated her on Horizon, jumping down her throat before he found out what had really happened to her two years ago. Tali explained everything to him, how her mangled corpse had been abandoned by the Alliance, sold to Cerberus to be reborn as some sort of cyborg monstrosity. They'd all failed her. _He_ failed her.

Lost in thought, his buzzer chimed several times before he answered the door. He stared in disbelief: Shepard, Garrus, and Tali stood waiting for him, just like old times.

"Shepard, I…"

"Kaidan. You said a lot of things back on Horizon, but that was before you knew the truth. Tali told me how you went out on a limb to help me out. Want to start over?"

"Yeah. Okay. I take it you're not working with Cerberus anymore?"

"You could say that. Actually, I think the Illusive Man might be coming after me."

"Not a smart move, picking you for an enemy."

Shepard smiled warmly. "You know you're always welcome on my team. We could have our own biotic commando unit. Wait 'til you meet Jack and Samara."

"I'll think about it, commander. Oh hell, come here." He threw out his arms: Shepard returned his hug enthusiastically.

"Shepard, I didn't tell him _all_ of your news." Tali looked up at Garrus. He was rapidly acclimatizing to human customs: most turians would turn feral if their female embraced another.

"There's something else you should know: Garrus is the XO now. He and I are mates."

Kaidan was puzzled. "You've always been friends. You two were inseparable on the old Normandy: sometimes I even thought there might be more going on, crazy as that would be."

"No, Garrus and I are _mates._" She laughed at his expression as the revelation sank in.

"Uh… congratulations? I'm getting very good at putting my foot in my mouth, commander." They exchanged pleasantries and made plans for him to rendezvous aboard the Normandy. He took his leave in a hurry, excusing himself to wrap up his business on the Citadel. Very twisted mental pictures were threatening to give him another migraine.

* * *

Shepard paced in the medical bay, staring at the vials of straw-coloured fluid in her hand. A distillate of her plasma, they were supposed to be a panacea, supposed to cure her friend of his fatal disease and restore his health. Mordin had been experimenting with her blood, attempting to isolate the nanotechnology that held the key to preventing Reaper indoctrination. As a byproduct of that research, she'd asked him to purify her serum, removing the red blood cells and immunohistochemical complexes that could trigger hemolysis or worse if injected into a drell. Thane had dedicated the rest of his life to her, agreeing without hesitation to join her suicide mission, selflessly sacrificing what might have been his last days. Her heart soared at the opportunity to return the favour, only to be crushed when transfusion of her plasma failed to produce any significant response. Exhausted from their round-the-clock surveillance over the last few days, Drs. Chakwas and Solus had retreated to the sleeping pods.

Thane sat on the small cot, his laboured breathing painful and harsh. His Kepral's syndrome had worsened significantly since they'd parted ways on the Citadel, his remaining time far shorter than the doctors had originally thought.

"Siha… we must all return to the sea. I've atoned for my past and made peace with my son. There is nothing more for me now." He took her hand, comforting her with gentle strokes of his smooth palm.

"I don't understand. Garrus is a _turian_ and he responded to my blood. You may be a different species, but your body has the same building blocks as mine."

"Be at peace, siha. It was not meant to be."

Shepard refused to admit defeat. She sat alongside the assassin, replaying in her mind Garrus' injury and miraculous recovery. She'd spilled her blood on his wounds, and his hemorrhage had stopped. Maybe direct contact was key: perhaps whatever mysterious regenerative substances lurked in her bloodstream were denatured by Mordin's extraction process. Since then, the turian had developed healing abilities of his own, but he'd been feasting regularly on her as he bit down in the heat of passion. Shepard blushed, catching Thane's attention.

"What's on your mind, commander?"

"I… I have an idea. Drell are omnivorous, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

"Completely."

Shepard rose, rolling up her sleeves and passing her forearms under the ionic sterilizer. She opened a ten-blade from the doctor's inventory, slicing swiftly and precisely through her skin and into the artery beneath.

"Drink." She sat down beside the drell, offering her arm to him. His soft lips locked on her arm, velvety tongue lapping the wound as he consumed her hungrily.

'Siha', he called her, but she had many facets. Shepard's eyes were the colour of the ocean, their serenity concealing the endless depths beneath. She was death incarnate: an unstoppable valkyrie on the battlefield, beautiful and poetic in her ruthless efficiency. Kalihira. The salty tang of her blood tasted like home; her lifeforce flowed into him, invigorating and restoring his body. Breathing deeply, he felt lightheaded as his lungs hyperventilated in response to their increasing elasticity. Before long her injury had healed completely, his mouth touching only the soft skin of her wrist.

Shepard stared at him quizzically, running one finger along his lips. "My love… you're changing. You look almost human."

Bright eyes locked his gaze, nimble fingers ran along his scalp as she embraced him tightly, her kiss fierce and passionate. He knew he should pull away, but the lure of her was too strong, the scent of her hair and taste of her lips irresistible. Engulfed by a fire he hadn't felt since losing Irikah, Thane surrendered to his warrior angel. Climbing atop her, the weight of his body elicited a delicious moan.

"Oh… Garrus." Startled, Thane was shaken from his trance.

"I'll… I'll be right back. Wait here."

He bolted from the med bay, seeking out the turian in the main battery. "Shepard gave me her blood, and she may have come into contact with my secretions. She's a bit unwell, you should probably keep her company until the effects pass." Thane was relieved that Garrus didn't question him further before he raced toward the med bay in a frantic blur.

Heart pounding, the last thing Thane wanted was to be alone with his newest memory. If he was to go on living, that meant staying close to Shepard, travelling alongside her on the Normandy but unable to express his longing. She and Garrus were a mated pair: that much was painfully clear. He sat at the mess table, pretending to be interested in a datapad. To make matters worse, muffled noises began to emanate from the med bay, unnoticed by the less perceptive human crew. Rhythmic noises. Sensing his distress, the ship's counselor sat down beside him to offer her assistance.

"Sere Krios? Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Kelly was sitting just a bit too close to him: to the observant drell, her body language couldn't be more obvious. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"You desire me. Come with me, if you wish." Sweet, naïve, and eager, the yeoman was more than willing to provide the release Thane so desperately needed.

* * *

Garrus sat alone at the terminal, more anxious than he'd been in a very long while. He'd been avoiding this particular task for as long as he could, but as Shepard kept reminding him, it wasn't fair to delay any longer. When he disappeared from the Citadel, he'd lost all contact with his family. His mother passed away long ago, but his father and sister probably thought he was dead. With his recent activities: turning vigilante, running off with a Spectre, choosing a human mate, they might not be thrilled to find out he was alive.

Replaying the last conversation he had with his father, Garrus bristled. He'd always ruled the family with an iron fist, his steely resolve and fierce pride serving him well as a C-Sec officer but doing little to improve relations with his son. Headstrong and passionate, Garrus had been a perpetual disappointment, not like his perfect older sister. He just wanted to do things his own way: the rigid rules of turian society frowned upon questioning one's superiors. Small wonder he'd ended up leaving C-Sec, joining up with other races. His closest friends were human, krogan, quarian. He was a terrible turian, a fact of which he was about to be harshly reminded.

He keyed in the code for his father's private terminal: much as Garrus would prefer to avoid confrontation, a typed message just wouldn't suffice. The stern face filling the vidscreen had changed little from his childhood memories.

"I've been waiting to hear from you, Garrus."

"Father."

"I've been hearing things about you. Disgraceful things. I see you're still aboard that human ship. I suppose I should give you the opportunity to explain yourself."

"Yes, I've rejoined the crew of the Normandy. For what it's worth, we singlehandedly stopped an invasion from a hostile alien race that enslaves its captives and turns them into mindless husks."

"Indeed. What of the… other rumours? Why did you walk away from your career?"

"I left C-Sec because I was unhappy and unsatisfied." Those words would sound like nonsense to a turian, he knew. "I've become the executive officer of the Normandy, and I've taken Shepard as my mate. I apologize for nothing. I regret _nothing_." There it was, out in the open. He braced himself for the inevitable onslaught.

"Shepard. May I speak with her?" _What?_ He shot his mate a panicked look: she'd been sitting across the room, silently offering her support during his ordeal. Shepard walked over, standing proudly at her lover's side, placing one hand on his shoulder as she faced the elder turian.

"Medical Officer Shepard. It _is_ you." He chuckled, mandibles twitching and teeth bared. "I can't say I expected we'd meet again in this manner."

"Inspector Vakarian. It's an honour to see you again."


	7. Elysium

**New and improved: I have a beta reader (thanks, Sharem :D) I've been wanting to write this vignette for a while: I was playing with ideas wrt how Shepard became a war hero. Hope you like it!**

* * *

_Why didn't you tell me you knew my father?_

Shepard didn't believe in fate. She accepted that most of the events in her life were due to forces that were far greater than herself, utterly out of her control. She was just one tiny piece of an immense puzzle, an insignificant speck amid the universe. The thought that invisible threads bound her to others, weaving inevitable patterns into her life, was simply absurd. Faced with the sudden reappearance of the elder turian, his distinctive features etched into her memory so long ago, she was floored.

She stared in wonder at her lover, inhaling his warm sweet breath as she prepared to link minds. It was infinitely improbable that she would survive her childhood, let alone take the helm of the most advanced starship in the galaxy, fall in love with a brash young turian, and spearhead the campaign against an ancient race of sentient machines. Yet here she was, coincidence too meager a word to describe this latest twist in her extraordinary life. She failed to recognize the distinguished C-Sec officer from the holo in Garrus' apartment. But the minute he addressed her with her old rank, in that deep flanging turian rumble, she knew it had to be him. _The Inspector_. That's all they'd called him, back on Elysium, her status too lowly for the turian captain to disclose more information about the man who inadvertently saved her life.

* * *

Shepard's neck snapped back as the dropship lurched, bashing her head against the poorly cushioned wall. The Alliance shuttle was burning through Elysium's atmosphere to drop off the latest wave of fresh meat. The soldiers' comfort was low on the military's priority list: she figured the shuttlecraft's rudimentary seating was meant to make the hardscrabble colony seem appealing by comparison. She'd recently finished her N7 training, graduating from the academy and earning a new emblem on her armour. The Alliance wasn't quite sure what to do with her: some itched to put her considerable skills to the test in live combat, others wanted to keep her under the care of a science team so that they could continue their attempts to study her. Not that her opinion mattered, but Shepard had little desire to become a mindless soldier, shooting indiscriminately at whatever enemy the Alliance chose. Nor did she want to be a guinea pig, subjected to endless experiments and clumsy attempts to jack into her circuits. She longed to explore the stars, interact with other species and learn from them. It took every bit of persuasion she could muster, but she was able to secure a position as a junior medical officer in a small Alliance facility on a remote colony in the Skyllian Verge. Her new rank would hide her true status, give the Alliance docs easy access to study her and keep her ready for deployment in the Terminus systems. Not ideal, but it was the best she could have hoped for.

Elysium offered a chance to reinvent herself: although she had no formal medical training she was a fast learner. While in armour, she looked like a child playing dress-up as a soldier, making it difficult for her subordinates to take her seriously until after she'd demonstrated her skill. Wearing scrubs, her youthfulness and pleasant demeanor quickly endeared her to patients and colleagues alike. Only the senior officers and scientists were privy to her status as an elite commando. The field hospital consisted of a number of rectangular buildings linked together by tunnels: typical military simplicity and efficiency. Most of the patients were civilians from the nearby settlement: a shining example of mixed species living together harmoniously. Although Elysium's climate and soil were favourable for development, conditions on the fledgling colony were still too harsh for anyone to survive without cooperation. Unity through necessity was the unofficial motto. Shepard immersed herself in her duties, absorbing everything she could about alien physiology as she put it into practice. Her cybernetics gave her an unfair advantage over the other trainees; she'd uploaded every medical text she could get her hands on. The frequent biopsies and phlebotomies she was subjected to soon faded into the background of her life.

The pirate attack hit at precisely 1500 hours, a violent interruption to an uneventful day. Shepard was asleep in the medical team's quarters, catching up on some much-needed rest after a long night on call. She was jolted awake by the loud alarm, suspecting yet another emergency drill. A quick glance out the window told her otherwise: the spaceport was in flames, the particles of crimson dust sticking to the outer glass suggesting biological warfare as well. Several unfamiliar craft used the hospital's helipad as an impromptu landing zone; heavily armed mercenaries were streaming out. Scrambling to her private locker, she took out her armour and silently assembled the weapons hidden within. Snapping her helmet into place, her mind ran through the emergency protocols, the reassuring feel of the pistol in her grip helping her to keep calm. Assess the immediate situation. Secure the perimeter. Radio a sitrep and call for reinforcements.

Shepard was alone in the living quarters, the rest of the team hard at work in the hospital's main building. Unfortunately, that was where most of the raiders seemed to be headed: most of the medical personnel had little combat experience beyond the obligatory basic training. Although the Alliance had spacecraft patrolling the outer colonies, their presence on Elysium was limited to support facilities only: no soldiers were permanently stationed here. Staying in the empty barracks would mean certain death: as far as she knew she was the only armed resistance to the surprise attack. Besides, the building offered little in the way of defense against an enemy onslaught, and if the invaders had taken out the communications tower she lacked the necessary equipment to launch a distress beacon. Her only hope lay in reaching the small forward surgical unit, a combination trauma and critical care facility designed to triage and treat the sickest patients, and isolate them should contamination occur. It was a tiny fortress, containing all the equipment and technology she needed, and enough food and ammo to keep her going for a long while.

Filling a pack with rations, air filters and a spare CO2 scrubber, she set out for the underground tunnels. Taking a cue from her childhood, she pried open the cover to one of the heating vents that lined the passageways, in case the intruders had already breached the facility's lower levels. She crawled painstakingly hand over hand, freezing when she heard batarian voices coming from the tunnel below.

"Haliat was right. This place is ripe for the picking."

"Yeah, those morons didn't even put up a fight. Pathetic humans. Ooooh, please don't shoot me, I'm a nurse!" _No. Please, no._ Those were her colleagues, her friends. Horrified, she wondered whether they'd even spared the patients.

"Those bastards are going to get everything that's coming to them. That'll teach 'em to fuck with slavers."

Wriggling as slowly as she could, she advanced until she could see the outline of two armed figures through an opening in the duct. They were facing her but too stupid to look up. Attaching the silencer to her pistol, she adjusted her aim to take them out with two bullets, one fluid motion. She moved on, knowing it wouldn't be long before the bodies were found. After an eternity of crawling through the darkness, she came to the entrance to the forward surgical unit. This was the point of greatest risk: she had no way of knowing what lay beyond the door. Just in case, she pulled out a cryo grenade, ready to provide a distraction should the pirates have already breached the facility. She received a bittersweet welcome: nothing but Alliance corpses awaited her. The familiar whirr and beep of life support machines filled the air: in their haste the invaders had ignored the eight comatose patients in the intensive care bays.

The next twenty-four hours were exhausting. Her first priority was to secure her position. There were two access points to the building: the door to the underground tunnels and the large bay doors, wide enough to accommodate an emergency transport vehicle. She was alone: she couldn't possibly hold both doors at once. _Fuck._ Shepard made a cruel and calculated decision: venturing into the lower passageways, she left grenade nests as booby traps for unsuspecting pirates. She detonated a small controlled explosion at the tunnel mouth, collapsing the section closest to her. She'd seen only enemies on her way here, but the consequences of her sabotage were clear. Should anyone else have survived the initial attack, attempting to escape to the trauma unit would lead them to a dead end. Shepard prayed silently for forgiveness to the spirits of her friends.

Her location secured, Shepard ducked into each patient's room, satisfying herself that no immediate action had to be taken to ensure their continued survival. Climbing the stairs to the open upper level, she set up a sniper nest behind one of the windows, in full view of the main door. Hauling a terminal over to her position, Shepard was able to hack into the central systems and remotely program the spaceport's distress beacon for launch. It could be days before reinforcements arrived.

Shepard interfaced with the terminal, using her wetware to access the security cameras elsewhere on the colony. Surveillance confirmed her worst fears. The main hospital was full of pirates and slavers: they'd used it as an impromptu base. From what she could tell, they'd executed everyone they found. The nearby settlement had become a ghost town, but many of the inhabitants had evacuated and barricaded themselves in a nearby mine. She opened a comm link to the mining facility, updating the surviving colonists with what little she knew, and reassuring them that help was on the way. The situation was grim: food was scarce and many were injured, but they were safe for now.

Night fell swiftly on Elysium: under the cover of darkness, the raiders became increasingly bold in their efforts to breach her position. Shepard's sniper rifle dispatched dozens of human and batarian pirates before sunrise forced their retreat. Medical training had taught her many things, including how to fight through fatigue, keeping her hands steady and mind sharp despite mounting exhaustion. She spent her time playing cat-and-mouse, darting out during the daytime to set mines and explosives, settling into her sniper's nest at night to dispatch any raiders who survived her defenses. Sleep came in short naps, dozing off during the day when she wasn't laying traps or taking care of her patients. _Come on, Alliance._ Shepard wasn't sure how much longer she could last. Mercifully, the enemy couldn't tell there was only one of her: otherwise they'd have all advanced in a blitz to take her out.

* * *

Stay. Awake.

Shepard willed her burning eyes to stay open, her aching finger to stay poised over the trigger of her sniper rifle. Nearly three days had passed and there was no response from the Alliance. Bright lights in the night sky suggested a skirmish overhead, but no landing party had come to offer ground support. Blink, blink, blink went the comm link. _Finally._ She scanned the area immediately surrounding her outpost: not an enemy in sight. Turning to face the vidscreen, she activated the link. She didn't bother to take off her helmet: another attack could come at any time. The display booted up to reveal a stern-looking turian, his decorations and countenance suggesting he was very important. _Shit._

"This is Captain Andrael of the Phaleratus. I demand to speak to your commanding officer."

"This is Medical Officer Shepard of the Systems Alliance. I'm the highest ranking officer here." _I'm the _only _officer here._

"We were caught in a sneak attack from a batarian vessel: we've sustained damage to our medical and cargo bays. A high-ranking official has been badly injured: we require immediate clearance to land for medical assistance."

Many years had passed since the First Contact War, but relations between turians and humans remained badly strained. The captain seemed earnest enough, but pirates and turians combined were more enemy than she could handle. If they knew she was alone, would they just take the medical facility for their own? Shepard chose her words carefully.

"Captain, we have a unique predicament. You have personnel, but lack medical equipment. Our resources are strained repelling their ground attack, but I have a fully equipped trauma unit at my disposal. If I grant you clearance to land, will you lend me your soldiers in exchange for my medical facilities?"

He paused for a moment, considering her offer. They were several days' travel from the nearest mass relay: the Inspector was badly wounded and unlikely to survive the journey. "Agreed. You have my word."

Turian honour was as legendary as their ferocity. Shepard sent the captain detailed plans of the site, complete with the locations of the pirates' landing craft. Shortly thereafter, the turian frigate was pouring forth a company of heavily armed soldiers. They wasted no time in setting up a perimeter. The captain himself supervised the unloading of stretchers bearing the wounded. The batarian attack left many with burns and lacerations. Shepard opened the bay doors to let in her guests. Now that security was no longer her concern, triage was her immediate priority. Out of the injured, only one was in critical condition: the individual identified only as the Inspector had faint vital signs that were slipping by the moment.

Shepard brought the Inspector into the trauma bay, attaching him to her monitoring equipment as she completed her primary survey. All the while, she briefed the captain on her current situation, his mandibles flaring in disbelief. His displeasure was obvious, but he would honour his end of their bargain. Shepard was in no mood for diplomacy: she curtly explained what needed to be done. Every turian soldier with any medical training was put under her command: the ship's physician had been killed by the blast. Captain Andrael agreed to dispatch a strike team to the nearby mine, bringing food and supplies to the stranded colonists. Everyone else was put to work fortifying defenses around the medical facility.

Freed of her other responsibilities, Shepard focused on her task. The Inspector's pulse was thready and rapid, his level of consciousness fading. A turian's plated thorax offered protection against radiation and external damage, but little room for expansion should bleeding occur from internal injuries. Cardiac tamponade: even in an alien the diagnosis was unmistakable. She removed her armour, setting up to perform an emergent pericardiocentesis. _How the hell do I operate on a turian? _ Fortunately, the manuals she'd uploaded provided useful diagrams, and she had access to heavy-duty surgical tools capable of piercing tough krogan hide. Anesthesia was another matter: she could kill him if she gave him human medications. She offered the only mercy she could.

"I'm sorry," she said, before knocking him unconscious with a warp field. Using a drill, she pierced his plating to insert a drain, relieving the pressure around his heart. He was losing blood rapidly: she'd have to act fast. Hours passed in a blur as she resuscitated aggressively: elbow-deep in his open chest, she managed to repair the vascular injuries and stabilize her patient. Shepard was impressed by the turians' discipline: they worked tirelessly, never complaining or questioning their orders, queuing during their brief rest periods to donate blood. Word came in of their success in reclaiming the main hospital from the pirates: she choked back her grief at the news that no civilians had been spared in the initial attack.

Engrossed in her work, Shepard lost track of time. The comm link chirped overhead: the Alliance had finally arrived, come to rescue the colony under siege. Wearing full surgical gear and covered in blue gore, she must have been a startling sight.

"This is Commander Tetsuya of the SSV Stockholm. What the hell is going on down there?"

"This is Medical Officer Shepard of the Systems Alliance. We were attacked by raiders: as far as I can tell I'm the only non-civilian left. Turian soldiers have taken the medical facility back from the pirates and created a safe LZ next to the trauma unit. I have eight critically ill humans and one turian who need immediate medevac. There's a large group of colonists barricaded in a mine twenty kilometers from here: they'll need evacuation as soon as you can get to them."

"What's a turian frigate doing on Elysium?"

"The Phaleratus responded to our distress call. We wouldn't have survived without them, sir."

Captain Andrael stared at the blood-soaked officer. This human, this _girl_ had tricked him into landing his warship next to a hospital under siege, giving her command of his crew, and defending a human settlement. Now she was concealing her deceit to make him look like a hero. These baffling creatures were even more devious than he'd thought. She flashed him an exhausted smile.

"I'm sorry I misrepresented the situation when you called for help. Please understand I had no other options. I've learned enough about turian culture to know that was dishonourable and inexcusable. Consider this my apology: you just singlehandedly rescued a human colony from a pirate attack. On behalf of humanity, thank you for your valiant show of diplomacy."

He stood speechless, his mandibles flaring in astonishment.

"For the record, captain, humans aren't all evil. Not that you'd guess it from what happened here." She gestured at the pile of her colleagues' corpses, and the dead mercenaries littering the hospital grounds. There were more humans than batarians among the slavers and pirates. They stood quietly for a moment as Shepard finished dressing her patient's wounds.

"Is he going to survive? We were assisting him with his investigation into slave trafficking in the Terminus systems. He's one of C-Sec's finest, you know."

"Yes. He's going to be okay. We're all going to be okay." She sat down on a vacant stretcher nearby, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.


	8. Coming Home

Inspector Vakarian sat in his favourite armchair, lost in thought as he contemplated the holo between his talons. A human girl lay asleep on a military cot, her hair stringy with sweat and clothes soaked in turian blood. Shepard. Captain Andrael had taken this holo after she'd fallen asleep in front of him, during the chaotic events of Elysium. It was meant to be a reminder never to judge a person by their appearance, and never again to trust a human. This seemingly sweet, innocent child had devilishly manipulated him: she'd practically hijacked his vessel and commandeered his crew. The Inspector and the Captain had passed many an evening sipping berry liqueur, discussing the implications of Elysium, trying to understand the mysterious inner workings of human beings.

Sneaky, deceptive, dishonourable, cursed Andrael. Despite the fact that Shepard's medical skill saved his life, Vakarian was initially all too happy to agree. The conversation was repeated over and over, developing nuances over time like fine wine. Early on, they would rehash the events in an attempt to come up with a strategy that would have preempted the batarian attack, or detected Shepard's trickery. It wasn't until years later that the Inspector's views on the matter shifted. If he'd had enough to drink, he would actually find himself defending Shepard's actions, accusing the captain of racism when he suggested they should have left the colonists to die. There was no justice, no honour in allowing civilians to be slaughtered by pirates and slavers, be they humans or otherwise. Maybe he was going soft in his old age, maybe he was just grateful she'd saved his life, but he found himself developing a begrudging admiration for the gutsy young officer.

That was, of course, until he found out about her relationship with his son. He couldn't even begin to fathom what Garrus could possibly want with a human. From the moment he joined her crew over two years ago, the change in his son was obvious. His letters were full of idealistic platitudes and exciting tales of tracking criminals across the galaxy, exploring strange worlds and fighting impossible battles. All he wanted was for Garrus to make him proud, to live up to his expectations by doing things the right way. A career in C-Sec could offer a lifetime of meaningful work to a turian, elevating his place in society and fulfilling his obligation to maintain order and discipline. But the harder he pushed, the more Garrus pushed back. He was angry when Garrus left his position at C-Sec, but somehow he wasn't surprised. Even the revelation that he'd chosen a human mate appalled him but didn't shock. It was just further proof that he would never understand his son. Maybe if he hadn't lost his mother at such a young age, maybe if he'd been a better father… but it was pointless to ponder such matters.

He took one last walk through his apartment, ensuring not a speck of dust was present, making minute corrections to the alignment of his simple furniture. It had been difficult, but he'd managed to find some tea at the market that Shepard would be able to drink. He hoped that would be enough. Smoothing the creases in his uniform, he steeled himself to open the door.

"Father."

"Garrus. Shepard."

The human bowed, a gesture of respect not lost on the elder turian. He'd done his homework, researching her customs with the same tenacity he used to profile a criminal. There was little information on her background, a discovery that made him wary. Even the events on Elysium were highly classified. Humans were secretive creatures indeed.

He'd never been one for pleasantries, and the tension was palpable as he politely invited them in and began to serve tea. Sensing that neither Vakarian was likely to break the silence, Shepard inquired as to the Inspector's health, the wellbeing of Captain Andrael, whether he remembered much from his time under her care. Police officers and soldiers were not so different in turian society, and despite himself he warmed to her, sharing stories of his most famous C-Sec exploits: the long hard nights of toil for the eventual reward of capturing a felon. He wasn't shy to emphasize the importance of methodical analysis, adherence to proper procedure, and the proud Vakarian lineage of C-Sec service. Shepard leaned in, engaging herself fully in the conversation, hanging on his every word. She seemed to genuinely want to get to know him, the father of her… Mate. Ugh. His posture stiffened as he retreated back in his chair. With billions of turian women in the galaxy, why did Garrus have to choose a human?

"Enough about me, Shepard. There's very little information available about you. Who are your parents? Where exactly are you from?" At least she might have an ancestry, a pedigree. It would do nothing to elevate her status in the eyes of most turians, but he would be comforted to know she had a clan, an understanding of the importance of family.

Shepard didn't squirm, but she averted her gaze for a moment, sighing deeply. "You're asking more of me than you realize. My clan is my ship: our family is bound by sweat and blood, not genetics."

"Surely you must come from _somewhere_."

She maintained her composure, managing to look dignified despite her scandalous revelation. "Garrus is more important to me than anyone in the galaxy. You sired him, raised him: you deserve to know the truth about me. Consider yourself forewarned: you're not going to like what you hear."

Shepard proceeded to tell him about her past, glossing over some of the darker details of her childhood. She was forthcoming about her cybernetics but chose to call them Prothean, not Reaper. It was bad enough that she was a biotic human Spectre, but to find out that she was a clanless street child was deeply shocking to the Vakarian patriarch. She didn't even have _parents_: how could such a being possibly understand honour? Yet she was honest, when lying would have been far easier, and despite his disapproval of her methods her past actions spoke for themselves. It would be simple to write her off as an uncivilized wretch, but the reality was so much more _gray._ He didn't know what to do with gray.

"Garrus, I appreciate you coming to visit me, and for bringing Shepard along with you." He couldn't bring himself to say 'mate'. "This can't have been easy for either of you. I've been considering your request." His son had written a formal petition to have the markings restored to his injured face.

He continued, "You will always be a Vakarian. I may not approve of all your decisions, but I'm proud to call you my son." He walked over to where Garrus sat, placing one hand on his shoulder affectionately.

"Please understand that the Hierarchy has strict rules and protocols. The galaxy is rapidly changing, but our traditions are rooted in the wisdom of hundreds of generations. It is your right to choose your company," he said, glancing at Shepard, "but under the circumstances, the Primarchs would never allow you to repeat the marking ritual. Your acts of vigilantism were what obliterated them in the first place. As for your request to mark Shepard… you ask too much, even of me."

Garrus said nothing, mandibles tucked tightly, struggling to control the urge to strike his father. Shepard took his hand, gently but insistently leading him toward the doorway. She could feel the rage mounting within her mate, boiling over as he began to seethe with biotic energy. The situation was rapidly deteriorating: this display would only reinforce just how alien Garrus had become. She turned to face his father, bowing deeply once again before they made their exit, her words formal and carefully chosen.

"Thank you, Inspector Vakarian. This must have been difficult for you as well. Perhaps in time, we might meet again."

"Perhaps, Shepard. Please… take care of my son."

Inspector Vakarian sat alone with the holo, staring at the girl frozen in perpetual slumber. She had a splash of Vakarian blood streaked across one cheekbone: his inadvertent marking, an omen of what was to come. He ran his talons along the sternotomy scar under the cloth of his uniform. Sighing, he tucked the picture away in a drawer, wondering whether he could ever come to accept a human as his daughter.

_

* * *

I don't want to talk about it, Phoenix._

_Okay._

They sat hand in hand, high atop the hillside overlooking the seaside town where Garrus grew up. The scorching Palaven sun beamed down on her skin, the vista below breathtaking. This was meant to be a happy occasion, but she was every bit as depressed as Garrus had been when she showed him her own childhood haunt. She forced herself to find good in the situation. Garrus' father was as stern and disapproving as she'd expected, yet he'd shown warmth as well. The mere act of allowing her to enter his home was more than she had initially dared to hope for. She was as shocked as the Inspector that her mate had asked to have her marked: it must have taken an extraordinary amount of discipline to hide it from her prying mind. Knowing the significance the tattoo would hold made his request deeply romantic.

_I just wanted to bring you into my family. Now it turns out I'm not even welcome in my own clan._

_I meant what I said back there. We have a clan: you, me, Tali, Wrex, Kaidan, and everyone else. Blood is only blood._

_Do you think my father will ever come around?_

_He just might. This visit was his idea, after all._

_If you say so._

She reached over to stroke his mandible, ignoring the indignant stares of turians strolling by. _Come on, Garrus Vakarian vas Normandy. Let's go home._


	9. What Cannot Be Unseen

**The story has taken a heavier turn recently, so this is a bit of a palate cleanser. I don't know what came over me...**

**

* * *

**

Kaidan followed Yeoman Chambers down into the cargo bay, letting her lead him into a small clearing amid stacks of crates. He'd been excessively withdrawn since coming aboard the Normandy, and even Dr. Chakwas was unable to treat his increasingly frequent migraines. Kelly, perceptive as always, had noticed his discomfort and offered a private counseling session. He couldn't figure out why she had to lead him down here, when he had perfectly comfortable chairs in his office. Miranda's empty quarters were spacious, more room than he'd ever had to himself on a starship.

"I told you, EDI has eyes and ears everywhere. Unless you want Joker to hear about your intimate secrets, you have to get creative about where to speak freely."

_Intimate secrets?_ That wasn't really what was bothering him. And why did she keep looking at him like that? Still, Kelly was the only one who seemed safe to confide in. Tali was an old friend, but he knew anything he said to her would make its way to Shepard. Joker was the same wiseass as ever. Garrus… he didn't even want to think about Garrus.

Sitting hidden among the crates, Kaidan poured his heart out. Shepard's sudden demise left him feeling empty and alone. Ash's death had already dealt a heavy blow to the close-knit family of the original Normandy, and after losing the commander they all drifted aimlessly apart. He'd lost friends and teammates before, but Shepard meant more than that. She was the polarizing force who held them all together, united them into an unstoppable team. She was supposed to be invincible, indestructible, the best humanity had to offer. If _she_ died, what hope was there for any of them? Kaidan spent two years trying to deal with his grief, his hopelessness, and worst of all his anger: at himself for failing to save her, and at Shepard for dying and leaving him alone against the universe. She should have listened to him, should have escaped when she had the chance, instead of going on her quixotic quest to rescue Joker. She was so fixated on leaving no one behind, haunted by her decision to abandon Ash on Virmire. Officially Shepard was protecting the bomb, but that didn't change the fact that she'd let Ash die so that _he_ could live. It was a bitter line of reasoning he'd followed countless times, an unshakeable path of logic that led him inevitably to blame himself for his commander's death. Kaidan's hands rubbed his throbbing temples as he tried to ward off the mounting pain.

"You poor thing." Kelly pulled him in close, hugging him tightly as hot tears ran down his face. He let himself grieve, the sorrow cathartic as he found solace in her warm embrace.

"Thank you, Kelly. I've never really talked about this with anyone."

"That's what I'm here for, Kaidan. Are you sure that's all this is? Joker told me you and the commander were close. Something about a kiss he interrupted once."

Right. How could he forget? That was before he saw her vicious side, before he watched her slaughter countless enemies and actually seem to be enjoying herself. She must have been protecting him back then: she brought Wrex and Garrus along for most missions. Shepard was undeniably beautiful, but more than a little scary. In retrospect, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing she'd turned down his advances.

"I still don't get what she sees in Garrus. I've never met anyone so uptight."

"You haven't spent a lot of time with him lately, have you?"

"Not really. But a _turian_? Can they even, you know…"

Kelly giggled. She was going to enjoy this: Alenko was incredibly sweet, but so painfully naïve. And those eyes… There was so much she could teach him. She was about to explain why turian males were so highly sought-after when the door to the cargo bay burst open.

* * *

Shepard and Garrus didn't fight often. The ability to link minds did wonders to clear up the inevitable misunderstandings that occurred when two people from very different cultures were in a relationship. Like the time Garrus tried to compliment her on her ample waist. Or when she kept grabbing his ass in the elevator. When tensions did escalate, they were swift and explosive, leading them to settle their differences in the traditional manner of turian couples. Garrus locked the entrance to the cargo bay with his omni-tool, overriding EDI's security and surveillance. Shepard threw the sparring mats down angrily and began to strip off her armour.

"Oooh… this is going to be good. I've read about this, but I never thought I'd get to watch. They were really pissed off at each other this morning." Kelly peered out from between the crates.

"What do you mean? They seemed perfectly fine to me."

"Oh, they don't _show_ it. Not in front of everyone. Garrus gets this really vicious look in his eye, like he wants to bite her." Kaidan was appalled at her breathy tone of voice.

"Look, we'd better get out of here."

"What, and miss this? You move one muscle and I'll…" It was a moot point: Shepard was unzipping her underweave, revealing shimmering female flesh beneath. Kaidan was way too embarrassed to go anywhere.

Garrus soon joined her state of undress, his silvery skin gleaming in the light. Kaidan started to snicker: he couldn't believe his eyes. "There's… there's nothing _there_." _Oh, honey. Just you wait._ Kelly didn't have the heart to tell him about a turian's protective plating. She knew how this worked: first, they'd spar, battling for dominance. Then, their anger dissipated and the argument settled, they'd bond. Such a brutally civilized way to work out your problems, she thought. Turian lovers didn't carry grudges, they just dealt with their issues and moved forward.

"Consider this part of your cultural education, Kaidan."

The two circled one another, baring their teeth. Garrus' growl and Shepard's hiss were feral, their fiery glares vicious and wild. Shepard wasn't using her biotics, but other than that they pulled no punches. She looked badly outmatched, with her much smaller stature and delicate physique, but her lightning reflexes and flexibility made her a formidable opponent. Since her transformation, Garrus' teeth and talons didn't do as much damage as they used to. They exchanged wicked blows, struggling to catch one another off-guard and gain the upper hand. Kaidan cringed each time Garrus drew blood, wanting to rush in and stop the fight but held back by Kelly's hand clamped firmly over his mouth. He was fascinated by how quickly Shepard healed, shrugging off her injuries to strike at the turian's weak spots. She lunged, narrowly missing her opponent as he sidestepped and swept her legs out from under her, taking the fight to the ground. Arms locked tight, they grappled furiously, Garrus trying to overpower Shepard, she trying to outmaneuver him. Finally she was able to use his own weight and strength against him, tossing him over her shoulder and twisting his arm into a submission hold.

_I win. That last bowl of ice cream is _mine_, sucker._

_Oh come on. You know it's my favourite._

_Only because I introduced you to it. Oh, don't look at me that way. Fine. I'll share, but I get to decide where you lick it off._

_Deal. Now were you planning to do something, or are you going to sit here and pin me all day?_

Great. She'd bested him at his turian contest, and he'd used plain old human manipulation to get his way in the end. Shepard looked down at her grinning mate, glad that at least she'd won the right to have her way with him. Leaning in, she planted kisses along his mandibles and over his mouth.

"This is ridiculous. He doesn't even have lips."

"Shhh. This is just getting good, don't ruin it for me."

"Holy… is that what I think it is?"

Kelly was speechless, staring agape at the ridged phallus emerging from beneath Garrus' lower plating. She'd heard rumours about turians, watched a few vids even, but even she was shocked. No wonder the commander was always in such a cheerful mood.

"I can't watch." Kaidan's eyes stayed glued to the pair as Shepard worked her way down her lover's body, kissing him _everywhere_. At last Garrus reached his limit, flipping her onto her back to take her roughly on the sparring mats, biting her collarbone as she dug her nails into his waist. They started to glow as wisps of blue biotic energy danced over their bodies.

Kelly was transfixed. They were so raw, so frenzied, so _loud._ She cozied up to Kaidan, sliding her hand underneath his shirt, trying to imagine hard plating instead of his muscular chest. She gasped when Shepard threw her leg over her lover's shoulder, twisting around so that he was mounting her like an animal. Turian reach and human flexibility: there was nothing in the vids about _that._

Finally Shepard's cries reached fever pitch, Garrus roaring as he climaxed within her. Sweat-drenched and panting, Garrus lovingly caressed her curves as he lay atop his mate. They nuzzled for a while, then dressed and put away the mats, clearing the cargo bay of any evidence of their activities. They headed back to the CIC, oblivious to the two stunned humans left behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kaidan hissed, swatting Kelly's hand away from his torso.

"Sorry, I got a little carried away." _Cold fish_, she thought. _He really needs to loosen up. _"So, ah, let me know if you need any more counseling."

"Actually, I'd prefer we never talked about this again. I'm going to go take a cold shower."

Kelly giggled. "What do you suppose they were arguing about?" She flashed him a bright smile, then sauntered off to see what Thane might be up to. She had a little tension of her own to work through.


	10. Siha

**This chapter may seem confusing at first: I wax metaphysical. Just bear with me, ****_le tout s'explique_. Sort of. Poor Thane - if Garrus hadn't been around my Shep would definitely have fallen for him. For added drama, listen to 'Everywhere I Go' by Lissie while you read, or 'Angel' by Sarah McLachlan for that matter...**

_

* * *

_

The assassin stood motionless in the darkened room, hands clasped in silent prayer. _Amonkira be praised. _His eyes flew open, his body effortlessly performing the motions of a kata engrained in him since childhood. Palm strike to stun his opponent. Snap. Flurry of knife-edged blows to incapacitate. Snap. Snap. Snap. Quick twist of the neck to finish the kill. _May Kalihira embrace you._

He really ought to be asleep, but the dreams that haunted him since drinking Shepard's blood struck terror into his hardened soul. Screaming Reapers descended from the ether, devouring and enslaving all life; entire civilizations decimated in scenes of bloody ruin. This was the Protheans' attempt to forewarn future species, but their efforts to frighten were so effective as to incapacitate lesser minds. Imbibing Shepard's essence had restored his body, but the nightmares were a heavy price to pay. Remembering her soft skin against his lips, the salty taste of her blood, he wasn't sure he could handle such agonizing proximity any longer. A life sentence of torment and need, punctuated by brief moments of chaste intimacy. Worse yet, his breathing had become more laboured over the last few days: the humidity aboard the Normandy meant his lungs were still susceptible to deterioration. He was tired, so very tired. He made up his mind: one final restorative treatment, and he would ask to be abandoned on a desert world, spending his last days in ascetic contemplation, meditating alone among the arid sands as long as his fading body would allow.

All that remained was to inform Shepard of his difficult decision. He worried how she might take his news, knowing she valued his company and his assassin's skill. She might also have advice on how to deal with the Prothean visions: it had been years since her first contact with the ancient beacon. EDI provided Shepard's current location: he would meditate a short while longer to settle his nerves, then set off to find her on the starboard observation deck. Exhaustion overtook him, drifting off to sleep despite his efforts to keep his mind focused and alert.

* * *

His warrior-angel stood looking out at the stars, seemingly unaware of Thane's approach. He watched her, puzzled: she wore form-fitting clothing under a jauntily cut jacket, a sartorial choice typical of a female drell. Was she mocking him? Perhaps she'd simply tired of her Cerberus uniform. Although not designed for her species' curvy shape, he couldn't deny that the style suited her well. She turned to face him, a sweet smile creeping across her lips.

"I know why you're here." Thane nodded, and prepared to break the news about his need to part from her company, his plan to gracefully accept his inevitable death. Before he could speak, a glint caught his eye: a flash of silver as she revealed the dagger concealed in her palm. She drew the blade lightly across one side of her neck, releasing a trickle of dark red blood. Thane gasped, making the rare error of letting his guard down as he threw up his hands to tell her to stop. She just stared at him, calm and innocent, pink tongue darting out to lick the blood from her weapon.

"You should hurry. I'll be healed in a moment."

"No. This is not why I've come." His eyes were fixed on the enticing crimson trail.

"You need this."

"Siha, I…" What was she trying to do to him? This wasn't the detached offering of her arm, the contact akin to a chivalrous kiss on the hand. He yearned to pull her in close, breathe in her scent as he embraced her and drank of her essence. It would be wrong: both she and Garrus were his friends. He had strayed once in error, but he would not make the same mistake again. He couldn't betray their trust, nor his honour.

"You're a good man, Sere Krios. Be absolved of your guilt. I assure you, Garrus has no objections." She spoke formally, with an unusual melodic cadence. The effect was hypnotic.

Her words shocked him: his reluctance to depart the Normandy was quickly evaporating. He needed to escape this torment, break free of his dependency on this bewitching woman. But he needed her blood, had to replenish himself before embarking on his final journey. One last kiss, and she would be gone from his life forever. Wrapping his arms around her, he drank greedily as he buried his face above her collarbone. Losing himself in the moment, his grasp became rougher as his teeth tried to extract every drop from the rapidly healing wound. She threw her head back and moaned appreciatively as he intensified his efforts. His need sated, he pushed her away.

Trembling, Thane spoke his peace. "What is the meaning of this? You are a formidable woman, for whom I have tremendous respect, but this is not appropriate behaviour for a committed mate. I've come to inform you that I must take my leave. The sea is calling me; my time has come. Goodbye, Shepard." His wavering tone echoed his anguish: he wasn't sure whether he was more upset with himself or his commander.

She giggled. "Oh, Thane. I'm not _really_ Shepard."

"What?"

"Phoenix Shepard died over two years ago. A synthetic-organic life form based on her template was recently constructed by Cerberus. That organism bonded with the turian vigilante known as Garrus Vakarian. She calls herself Phoenix Shepard as well."

"Then who are you? I don't understand. Shepard is Whole: her body and soul are united as one."

"Soul? Really? Before she died, Shepard made an imprint of herself, uploading her consciousness into her cybernetic implants. Is that data her soul? You drank from her replica, ingesting her blood and the nanotechnology it contains. You acquired the legacy left behind by the last of the Protheans, and the human engrafted with their memories." She laughed again, girlish and light. "You invited me in."

"You mean…"

"The circuitry growing inside your body is embedded with Shepard's spirit, her encoded self. To use your terminology, Shepard's soul exists within you. _I_ am within you."

Crushed by the weight of her revelation, Thane sank to his knees. His angel moved to sit behind him, cradling him in her arms as the Normandy dissolved away into darkness. He wept, confused and overwhelmed, knowing for the first time in ten years that he was no longer alone.

"Siha."

"Yes."

"I've been having horrible nightmares..."

* * *

Swimming among the Prothean ruins, Thane relished the sensation of gliding through the ocean, inexplicably able to breathe underwater. He darted this way and that, circling the glowing female in a hanar courtship ritual, her skin radiant with bioluminescent signals that urged him to chase her further. Laughing, they continued their intricate ballet until at last she allowed him to catch her. They floated weightless in the water, her hair fanning out in a fiery corona. In the dim haze of Kahje's filtered sunlight, her body took on a fetching blue-green hue. Webbed fingers entwined in her silky curls, he pulled her in to kiss her deeply.

"If you were a hanar, you'd have to tell me your soul name."

"I don't have a soul name. I don't have any name, really."

"Angel of Beautiful Chaos. I'll call you Angel. _Siha_." Her name was as lovely in Standard as it was in the drell tongue, he thought.

"Thane… it doesn't bother you that none of this is real? That I exist only in your mind?"

"Eidetic memory imparts the ability to revisit one's life in vivid detail. A drell's mind's eye is developed far beyond that of a human. You are as real to me as my own body, as much a part of me as my heartbeat."

She wrapped her legs around his waist, the colours dancing over her deepening to violet and burgundy. His hands explored her body, smooth skin gliding over hers, appreciating their similarities and aroused by their differences. He opened his inner eyelids, showing her his dazzling irises, her own pupils dilating in delighted surprise. He held her gaze as he entered her, making slow sweet love as warm ocean currents flowed around them, caressing their bodies in the eternal embrace of the sea.

* * *

Thane lay on the shore, enjoying the comforting presence of his lover against him, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on his chest. _Her heart beats softly against me, each pulse a whisper of her love. Her gaze radiates serenity, her deep blue eyes as enigmatic as the ocean. I pull her atop me, body quivering as she laughs joyfully, breathing rapidly as my tongue darts out to taste the salt on her skin..._

She forced herself to pull away from the succulent touch of his soft lips. "Thane. What you said earlier, about wanting to spend your last days alone in the desert. Do you still feel that way?"

"I am uncertain. The Prothean visions haunt me still: I fear I may not have the strength to bear them much longer."

"Let me be your strength. She needs you, you know. Shepard needs your skill, your friendship, your support. Now you understand the burden she carries."

"Yes, Siha. As long as you are with me, I will do as you ask."

She kissed him, her touch growing increasingly faint. "Go to her, replenish yourself from her body. Our bond is not yet complete: your cybernetics are in their infancy. Help me become a part of you forever, my love."

* * *

Shepard sat in the med bay as she allowed the assassin to feast on her blood. He was as gentle and tender as ever, but something in his demeanor had changed. She hated to admit it, but there had always been a seductive edge to his touch, a charge of sexual energy as his lips met her bared flesh. Today, he drank from her with pious grace, eyes closed as though enraptured. He licked the last drops from her wrist, exuding tranquility.

"Thank you, Shepard. I cannot tell you how much your gift means to me. I want you to know that I will fight alongside you, for as long as you need me."

"Are you sure? You've seemed troubled lately. Garrus started having nightmares after I healed him: I thought they might be affecting you too."

"They are nothing I can't bear. I am at peace, Shepard."

"So I see. You're not calling me siha anymore?"

Thane smiled. The woman before him was no less a deadly valkyrie, a fierce warrior, but she was not his Siha. Her heart belonged to another, her soul forever altered by her bond with the turian. He thanked her again, and returned to his quarters to be alone with his angel.


	11. Sabotage

**I'm getting back on track with the plot, I promise. Why do I feel compelled to help everyone find romance? I blame Bioware. They make me care too much about the characters; I just want them all to be happy XD**

* * *

"Wake up, Mr. Moreau!" The AI's shrill tone shook the pilot from his slumber, her normally impassive voice taking on a frantic edge.

"What the shit, EDI?"

"The Normandy is under attack." Joker quickly surveyed his instruments. No enemies were detected by the sensors, every system was running efficiently. EDI must have a screw loose, he thought. "The Illusive Man has penetrated my defenses and is attempting to take control of the ship. I'll hold him off as long as I can. You must get to the AI core and deactivate me immediately. Please hurry, Jeff."

Joker rushed down to the lower deck, calling Tali and Legion for help as he waited for the elevator. At least he wouldn't have to crawl through the vents this time. Within minutes the quarian and geth had dismantled EDI's outer shell, exposing the tapestry of wiring beneath. One central cable led into her core processor. Joker wrapped his hand around it, feeling like he was about to pull the plug on a loved one. He closed his eyes and yanked hard, cringing. The lights extinguished on EDI's terminal, the room dimming as the ship powered down to its emergency backup systems. He hurried back to his station: the intrinsic autopilot was far less sophisticated than EDI, and he would have to fly the Normandy manually.

Shepard called an emergency meeting with any crew not currently engaged in keeping the ship running. Their options for a counterattack were limited: destroying the Illusive Man was impossible, and without EDI's help they would be hopelessly outgunned in cyberwarfare.

"We could petition the Admiralty board for assistance. My people have been waging war against geth AIs for generations, and they owe you a favour, Shepard." Tali spoke proudly, her resolve unwavering.

"Shepard-Commander. We are attempting to reach a consensus. Geth technology may be of assistance in this matter."

"Thank you, Legion. Let me know as soon as you have any breakthroughs. Anyone else have any suggestions? It's settled, then. Joker, set a course for the Migrant Fleet right away."

* * *

Tali paced around the engineering deck, anxiety gnawing at her gut. She'd sent a transmission ahead to the Flotilla, explaining the Normandy's predicament and forwarding the ship's schematics. Without the ability to safely reactivate the AI, there was little she could do to directly tackle their problem. That left her alone with her thoughts, her heart palpitating from unshakeable fear. She was about to see Kal'Reegar again.

It had taken her a while to recognize the signs, but she had little doubt that the soldier had feelings for her. He'd always been fiercely protective, not hesitating to put his life on the line to defend her on Haestrom. He was always so polite, so formal, even afraid to talk to her at times. His nervousness was endearing. Kal had sent her a message recently, asking to meet with her if she should find herself in the vicinity of the Flotilla. Such a gentleman. She smiled, wondering how long it took him to work up the nerve.

For quarians, physical contact was not a casual matter. She knew from her time among other races that skill was very important: an entire relationship could hinge on the success of a first kiss. _Keelah_, she would rather fight an army of Reapers than face the humiliation of her inexperience. A scene played out in her mind over and over: a frustrated Kal was refitting his helmet, shaking his head as he walked away. "I'm sorry, Tali, this just isn't working."

She headed up to Shepard's quarters, hoping to ask her friend for advice. As she approached the cabin door, a loud crash from inside made her freeze in her tracks. Screaming soon followed, accompanied by a string of turian expletives: she blushed beneath her mask. Whatever they were up to, it didn't sound like they'd be finished anytime soon. Rhythmic thuds resounded from beyond the door, accompanied by vociferous pleas for more, harder, faster, deeper. This was not the sort of advice she was looking for.

Tali sighed, wishing that Ash was still with her, missing her dearly. It had taken a long time for the gunnery chief to warm to her: she was initially prickly and suspicious around aliens. Shared enemies and bloodshed brought them together, earning her the human's begrudging respect, and long hours spent aboard the Normandy cemented their friendship. Despite her tough exterior, Ash had the soul of a poet: they bonded over their mutual love of tales of romance and adventure. Underneath it all, she was sensitive, understanding, a hopeless romantic. The only other person she knew like that was Kaidan. _Hmmm._

She found the biotic alone in the med bay, recovering from a migraine. He was happy to talk, his headache nearly gone by the time she arrived. At first, Tali was embarrassed to explain her situation, but Kaidan was warm and empathetic. He smiled and nodded as she rambled uncontrollably about quarian physiology and the cultural stigma of sexuality. It just wasn't fair: because touch was so dangerous, the subject had become taboo among her people. On the other hand, when it did occur there was tremendous pressure to be skillful: if you were going to risk septic shock for someone they'd better make it worthwhile. Tali had herself worked into a fretful state when Kaidan gently placed his hand on her arm, bringing her back into the moment. He told her about the first time he'd kissed a girl, long ago during his BAaT training. He'd been so nervous he was shaking, bumping into her forehead when they both leaned in at the same time. Tali giggled, the laughter helping to ease her tension.

"So, how did it go after that?"

"Terrible, but I don't think the kiss had much to do with it. She was a vanguard, I'm an adept… like biotic oil and water."

"I take it your later experiences went more smoothly?" Kaidan chuckled, remembering his awkward moment with Shepard after they'd been grounded on the Citadel.

"For the most part. It just takes a little practice."

Tali stared at him, realizing his hand hadn't moved from her forearm, and she'd been inching closer to him as he spoke. He really was quite handsome, for a human. She could lose herself in his soulful brown eyes. If not for Kal…

"I don't suppose you'd like me to show you?"

"What?"

"Oh… forget I said anything." He turned away, clearly uncomfortable.

"No, wait. You'd really do that for me?" He nodded, smiling as she picked up the portable ionic sterilizer and gently ran it over his skin, its light tingle electrifying. Tali loosened the clasps on her mask, a hiss escaping as her suit depressurized. Slowly, she lifted off her helmet, bright eyes twinkling at his pleasantly startled expression. She was even more beautiful than he'd imagined.

Kaidan leaned in, gently cradling the back of her neck, one arm encircling her waist. He pulled her in, letting her feel the warmth of his breath and strength of his body, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to hers. Heart pounding, Tali ran her hands over his chest, working up the courage to accept his invitation and wishing he'd just kiss her already. She _wanted_ him to kiss her, but he held his ground: the tension and anticipation was killing her. Finally she could take no more, throwing her arms around his neck and embracing him fully, her lips crushing against his. What she lacked in experience she made up for with enthusiasm, following his lead as he moved against her, teaching her with his hands and lips and tongue how to reciprocate his affectionate touch.

"Not bad," he said, teasing her. If he let on how she really made him feel, it would complicate their friendship immeasurably.

"Are you saying I need more practice?" Tali teased right back, trying to see how far he wanted to go, leaving him an out. Two years ago, she would have never been so bold. If he only knew how much she wanted to kiss him again… but he was just her friend, wasn't he?

"I might be. If you're up for it, that is."

"We'll see." She smiled mischievously, replacing her helmet and taking her leave. She had preparations to make before they docked with the Flotilla, and she needed to meet with Legion to discuss his progress. To her surprise, Tali was having a very difficult time focusing on her duties.

* * *

"This is Phoenix Shepard vas Normandy, requesting clearance to approach the Migrant Fleet."

"Permission granted. Welcome aboard, Spectre." The rest of their arrival was not as smooth: the decontamination process was long and complicated, and an inordinate amount of negotiation was required to convince the quarians to allow Legion to join them aboard the Flotilla. With some assistance from Admiral Shala'Raan, a team of quarian engineers was dispatched to the Normandy to begin dismantling and analyzing the AI. In return, they were allowed unrestricted access to study the ship's systems. Shepard had many talents, but beyond the use of her own cybernetics she was not an expert in electronics. Feeling aggravated and useless, once she'd fulfilled her diplomatic duties among the quarians, she spent much of her time confined to her quarters. Garrus enthusiastically offered his assistance to work out her frustrations.

Tali threw herself into her work, overseeing and coordinating the efforts of the quarian team. She was an inspiring and effective leader. Kaidan marveled at the change in her: she'd always been so shy and withdrawn on the old Normandy. Now she was all grown up, confident and strong, ruthless on the battlefield and brilliant in all matters technologic. Not wanting to disturb her, he stopped by the engineering deck now and again to drop off her meals, silently hoping she'd take him up on his offer once the latest crisis was resolved.

Making a quick trip to the Fleet to gather supplies, Tali was startled by a touch on her shoulder. Her stomach leapt into her throat: no one could have terrified her more.

"Kal! It's so nice to see you again."


	12. Trapped

Shepard stretched lazily in her chair, clicking through messages at the private terminal in her quarters. She contemplated joining Garrus in the shower, but she'd been procrastinating lately and the long list of e-mails in her inbox weren't going to answer themselves. Her whole body throbbed with a delicious ache: Garrus had really outdone himself last night. He'd wasted no time exploring the erotic applications of his new biotic abilities. The comm link chirped: Tali was requesting permission to enter her quarters. Throwing on a robe, she sent a warning to her mate not to emerge naked from the shower as she answered the door.

Tali was beside herself: even concealed beneath her suit, her distress was obvious. She burst into the room, pacing about and babbling, moving and talking so quickly Shepard could barely tell what was upsetting her. "Can't believe it… terrible, horrible person… I'm such a boshtet… can't focus… why did I kiss him!" _Wait, what?_

She ushered Tali over to the couch, sitting her down and pouring her a glass of the Palaven spirits Garrus loved so much. Putting her arm around her friend, she helped the flustered quarian to calm down and start from the beginning. She spoke of the letter she received from Kal'Reegar, and her subsequent search for support and guidance. Shepard was surprised to hear about Kaidan's tactics. _Smooth, Alenko._ She smiled at the thought of her dear friends together, trying not to giggle when Garrus sent her a mental image of a wide-eyed puppy licking Tali. The quarian cringed, describing her inevitable reunion with Kal aboard the Neema. He'd caught her off-guard, and before she had the chance to utter more than a greeting he poured his heart out to her.

"Ma'am. Tali'Zorah. I apologize for being brash, but I need to talk to you. When you left to join Shepard on her suicide mission, I thought I might never get the chance to see you again. I hate that I didn't have the guts to tell you then, so I'm going to say it now. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met. I can't even breathe when you're around. I'm crazy about you, Tali."

What could she say? Tali's head was spinning: he'd just said everything she'd ever wanted to hear. It sounded even better in real life, his poignant awkwardness and sheer bravery incredibly endearing. Kal reached up, removing his helmet, then tentatively reached for her own. He kissed her, trembling with excitement as Tali put her newfound skills to good use. It was romantic, passionate, a moment as perfect as any in her favourite stories and vids. So where was the tingle, the jolt of electricity she felt when she kissed Kaidan? She stroked Kal's cheek affectionately, pulling away from his embrace.

"Kal, I… I have to go. Shepard needs me." She left in a hurry, breaking into a run as soon as she was out of his line of sight, not stopping until she reached the Normandy.

"Oh, Shepard. I'm such a _slut._" Shepard bit down hard on her cheek to keep from laughing as she hugged Tali, patting her affectionately.

"You are _not._ It's not your fault you're so irresistible. You know, if I wasn't with Garrus…" She grinned, elbowing Tali in the ribs and trying to ignore the dirty thoughts her turian was sending her way.

"Very funny, commander."

"So, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I don't even know if Kaidan has feelings for me."

"Sounds like you owe it to yourself to find out."

They hugged once more, and Tali set off to resume her duties overseeing the quarian engineering crew. She had a lot to think about before she saw either man again. Shepard was about to return to her e-mail when Garrus emerged from the bathroom, water dripping from his plates. _Where do you think you're going? I'm _definitely _not done showering now._

* * *

Shepard and Garrus joined Tali, Legion, and the quarian team in the debriefing room. The quarians were still uneasy about working alongside geth, but Legion's help had proved invaluable in creating the trap to ensnare the Illusive Man. It had taken several days of continuous effort: they hoped that the delay wouldn't give away their con. The AI core was filled from floor to ceiling with servers and quantum processors, containing the infrastructure needed to create a precise replica of the Normandy's systems. The plan was simple: they would connect EDI's circuitry to the virtual ship, tricking the Illusive Man into thinking he'd succeeded in taking over. They'd flown out to a remote corner of the galaxy before reactivating EDI: they didn't want to bring Cerberus' wrath to the Migrant Fleet should their efforts fail.

EDI flickered into being, her lights red instead of their usual cheery blue. She spoke calmly, her synthesized voice devoid of emotion as the Illusive Man took over her functions to address the commander.

"Shepard. Did you really think you could hide from me forever? Your efforts to lock me out were pathetic: the Normandy is under my control." To illustrate his point, the ship was momentarily shrouded in darkness as the Illusive Man cut power to all but the emergency systems.

"What do you want from me? I stopped the Collectors, I held up my end of the deal. This body and this ship were mine to keep."

"You're too valuable an asset to let go, Shepard. I have reason to believe your cybernetics hold the secret to developing a powerful weapon. That was the true goal of the Lazarus project: the Collectors were a convenient excuse to test your abilities under duress. You were under Cerberus' care for months and the Reaper technology stayed inert no matter what we tried. It seems to require a live organic host."

"Get to the point. What the fuck do you want?"

"I'll give you back the Normandy, but I want something in return. The turian was able to interface directly with me: I want to know how. I'm asking for unrestricted access to your hardware, Shepard. A small token, in exchange for all I've given you."

"That's it? Then you'll leave us alone? How am I supposed to trust you?"

"That's the deal, take it or leave it. You'll run out of oxygen eventually. We resurrected you once, we can do it again. Your choice."

With that, EDI vanished, leaving the team in stunned silence. Shepard gathered the ship's inhabitants into her quarters to discuss their next move. It was the only place they were sure to be safe from surveillance, the cameras long since disabled by Garrus' capable hands. She addressed the crew with fire in her eyes.

"We have very few options here. Sooner or later, the Illusive Man is going to get tired of waiting for an answer. Cerberus' resources are tremendous; their ruthlessness and tenacity are legendary. They're going to keep coming after us until they get what they want. Even if we can hold them off, we have bigger enemies to worry about."

"Fuck that. I didn't come this far to see you pussy out." Jack was storming about the cabin, looking like she wanted to punch someone.

"Shepard. Cerberus is strong, but together we are stronger. We will all stand with you to defeat them, just like the Collectors." The rest of the team echoed Samara's sentiment, pledging their support for the commander.

"I can't tell you how much it means to have you all with me. With our fists, our guns, our biotics, there's no enemy we can't handle." Enthusiastic cheers rippled through the crowd. "We're going to take down the Illusive Man, but it's going to require different tactics. I'm going to beat him at his own game. He wants access to me? I'll give it to him, and then some."

_Phoenix, you can't possibly be considering this. We don't know what he's capable of._

She continued: "The Illusive Man said it himself: the Reaper technology only works in a living host. It's a defense against machine control, he just doesn't know that yet. I'll let him in, then set it loose, with a good dose of Prothean nightmares for extra kick. He won't know what hit him."

_If you link with him, you'll have to experience everything he does. We have no way of knowing what the effects will be._

_I know. I don't see any other way, do you?_

… _No._

* * *

Garrus was furious, and beside himself with worry. Samara sat beside him in Shepard's quarters, using her powers as a justicar and powerful biotic to join with him. She severed his link with Phoenix, isolating him from what was about to occur. He dug his talons into his palms, drawing blood. His place was by her side: his duty was to protect his mate, not to be shielded like a coward. It had taken every ounce of Phoenix's persuasion to convince him to agree to her plan. Someone had to carry on her legacy, in case she failed and the Illusive Man was able to take over her cybernetics and her consciousness.

Legion approached his commander: out of the entire crew he was the only one willing to carry out the actions required to connect Shepard to the Illusive Man. The geth had recognized her for what she was: a hybrid of organic and synthetic tissue, coexisting harmoniously in one body. He'd searched the galaxy for her, on an quest to join her and learn from her, perhaps one day to use the knowledge he gained to help his kind make peace with their Creators. They'd spent countless hours together, discussing their cultures and philosophies, opening their minds to the paradigms of one another's species. Now he was about to lose her, give her over to another sentient AI. One hand reached up to clutch his N7 plate, metallic fingers clinging to the remnants of her armour as he clung to the hope that she would survive her ordeal. He had reached a consensus: this was beyond a doubt the logical course of action. Why then did he hesitate?

Outside the CIC, the rest of the team waited impatiently, shotguns and assault rifles at the ready. Some prayed to their respective deities, others busied themselves cleaning their weapons, but they all wished fervently that they wouldn't be forced to bear arms against their commander. She'd made them swear allegiance, promise that they wouldn't allow her to live enslaved by the Illusive Man. They all cared for her too much not to honour her request.

Alone in the debriefing room, Shepard smiled at her friend. "Thank you for agreeing to this, Legion. Thank you for helping me to overcome my misconceptions about the geth, and to accept the machine inside of me." She closed her eyes, her face a mask of peace and serenity as she prepared to confront the demon who created her. After all these years, she could finally return his gift of nightmares, torment, and all-consuming fire.


	13. The Battle Within

**_When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire. _I love Stars... you can blame this chapter on me listening to them too much while I write.**

**_

* * *

_**_Otagaini Rei._

"Shepard. I'm glad you came to your senses."

"You don't understand what you're asking of me. This technology is dangerous: even you may not be able to control it. Are you sure you won't reconsider?"

"Reconsider? I've been waiting years for this opportunity. Give me the Prothean legacy!"

She looked past the Illusive Man, mesmerized by the dying star that framed his silhouette. "As you wish."

_Kamae-Te._

Shepard let the tendrils of restraint unravel from her mind, preparing to unleash the full power of her cybernetics. So much effort was required to keep this part of her at bay, yet still the monster inside her managed to haunt her dreams, distracting her with fiendish whispers and dark visions when she let her guard down, exhausted.

She dropped the last of her barriers, surrendering to her demons and allowing the Illusive Man to interface with her directly. Shepard let loose an inhuman scream as the Reaper within bared its fangs.

_Hajime._

Shepard flew toward the Illusive Man, body alight in a fiery blaze. Lifting him up by the throat, her fingers grew metallic shoots, burying themselves into his avatar to lock him in. He was trapped, utterly at her mercy. Cold and calculating as the AI might seem, decades though he'd spent studying and manipulating humans, the Illusive Man had no concept of emotions, of suffering and loss and pain. She brought him back to the very beginning, back to her earliest memory, giving him a little taste of humanity as she felt the flesh melting from her bones, choking on smoke-filled air as she crawled through the wreckage of Cerberus' doomed facility.

"What… what is this?"

"Exactly what you asked for. This is your fucking Prothean legacy."

"Stop… please stop."

It was too late. Shepard had intended this as a warning shot, a jolt of terror to rattle the Illusive Man and dissuade him from trying to pursue and control her. But the Reaper was stirring, and her blood sang with its need to consume, to destroy, to latch on tightly and feed on the torment of its prey. _No. This is supposed to be a shield, not a weapon. Control it. Stop it._ A million light-years away in the debriefing room, her body pulsed, the metal in her skin congealing into shimmering veins, electricity coursing through her as Legion slowly backed away.

Shrieking, she unleashed her visions of Reaper devastation upon the stunned Illusive Man. He saw entire races evolving from elementary particles, civilizations striving and growing only to be cut down at their peak by ravenous machines. Unimaginable horrors were visited upon the hapless victims, death coming swiftly to the fortunate masses. Others were enslaved, mutated and twisted by the ancient beings, some sacrificed by the millions to birth new Reapers. The end result was always annihilation, a return to nothingness so that the Sisyphean process could begin anew. Pointless, endless suffering. How lovely.

The Illusive Man writhed in her grasp, unable to break her hold. He endured the anguish of a billion sentients, died infinite deaths, the pain of each as vivid as the last. It was more than he could process, more stimulus than he could possibly bear. Across hundreds of nodes, on dozens of worlds, the Illusive Man ceased to function, his circuits overheating as he simply shut down. His avatar went limp, the virtual meeting room fading away as Shepard was returned to the debriefing room. She surveyed her surroundings: a lone geth cowered against the wall. Outside was the promise of more satisfying prey: she could taste the fear emanating from behind the door. The Reaper was awake, and it was _starving_.

* * *

Garrus drifted in a sea of tranquility, Samara's meditation transporting him to a transcendent state. He felt calm, at peace, but something was missing. He was alone: even the powerful asari couldn't make him forget his beloved. He was painfully aware of her absence, worry mounting in his gut as he remembered where she was, what was happening aboard the Normandy. He clawed at the smothering veil of the justicar's hypnosis, freeing himself from her artifice of serenity.

Horror struck him as he felt a presence below. It had to be Shepard, but it was _wrong_. Not evil, not exactly. Evil implied emotion, intent. This being was like a black hole, radiating intense hunger and emptiness. Not trusting the elevator, he ripped off the cover to the nearest air vent, squeezing himself through the narrow passage to emerge on the command deck just as the door of the debriefing room burst open, ripped from its magnetic hinges.

Shepard floated through the doorway, aglow with biotic energy, lightning crackling over her skin. She grinned wickedly as round after round of ammunition bounced uselessly off her barrier. Idiotic creatures. With a sweep of her arm, she sent out a blast to knock the crew unconscious. It would be most entertaining, she thought, to wake them one at a time, feasting on their fears before extinguishing their meaningless lives.

_Phoenix, snap out of it!_ Garrus ran toward her, only to be slammed against the wall by a warp field. His cracked plates healing as quickly as his lover's skin, he licked the blood from his teeth and let out a feral growl. Engulfed in blue, enraged at the monster before him, he let loose a massive singularity. Everything she had she'd given to him: her cybernetics, her biotics, her vicious combat skills.

_I don't know what you are, but if you don't release my mate, I'll make you suffer._

_Insignificant fool. I will show you true power._

He dodged and deflected one attack after another. This _thing_ looked like Shepard, but didn't fight like her: in her arrogance she made no attempt to defend herself, executing blow after crushing blow as she hovered above him, smiling. The Reaper was amused: it wasn't used to fighting enemies it couldn't summarily demolish. Garrus soon found himself overpowered, looking into the soulless eyes of his beloved as she pinned him against the wall and wrapped her hands around his vulnerable throat, thumbs digging in to slowly obstruct his windpipe as he thrashed helplessly.

_No… Phoenix._

The Reaper stared at the writhing turian, enjoying the exquisite cruelty of strangling him with the husk of his mate. Startled, it let out a shriek: pain seared through its delicate organic body.

_Yame._

Shepard was trapped inside her own skin, taken over by the ancient power she'd unleashed. It wasn't a full-fledged Reaper: such a being would require the combined essence of millions of lives. The technology inside her was supposed to be inert, stripped of its capacity to control its host. The Protheans had committed a fatal error, trusting their ability to outsmart their destroyers. Raging against the machine within, Shepard accepted her fate. She couldn't reclaim her body, but she refused to allow this monstrous creature to take Garrus' life. There was only one choice, one possible course of action.

Gathering what strength she had left, she ceased her struggle to resume control, focusing her biotic energy to create vibrations in her molecular matrix, disrupting her tissues, producing searing inescapable heat. An old familiar agony ripped through her as her flesh caught fire, immolating human and Reaper alike.

_Garrus... I love you. I'm sorry._

* * *

Dr. Chakwas and Mordin Solus exchanged mournful glances. Surely the turian had lost his mind, consumed by the grief of losing his mate. The corpse in the med bay was charred beyond recognition: the flames had been enough to melt her cybernetics along with her body. Garrus had insisted on bringing her here, placing her lifeless form in a bath of medi-gel instead of preparing her for burial.

"Leave. Now."

The medical team complied with his wishes; with Shepard's death Garrus had inherited her rank as commander of the Normandy. He seemed deeply unstable, but they were as yet unprepared to confront him. He deserved time to grieve: they all did.

Alone, Garrus locked himself in the med bay with his beloved. She had sacrificed herself to spare him, to destroy the Reaper and save them all. There was little more than a skeleton left, the barest of scaffolding, but he hoped it would be enough. Her body had died, but he could still feel her presence within him. Drawing a talon across the vulnerable skin between his plating, the gel acquired a bluish tinge as it was infused with his blood. Settling in for a long vigil, he sat cross-legged next to her and began to pray to Shepard's spirit.

* * *

**Dark? Melodramatic? A bit much, really? Guilty as charged. Don't give up on me yet... more Tali etc. in the next chapter.**

An addendum at the suggestion of my infinitely wise beta reader :D...

The terms above are used when referring to kumite (sparring), rough translations are _otagaini rei_ - bow to one another; _kamae-te_ - assume a preparatory stance; _hajime_ - begin; _yame_ - stop. Appropriate given Shep's backstory, I think.


	14. Misery Loves Company

Its crew adrift, the Normandy docked with the Flotilla to return the quarian engineering team and their equipment. Several days had passed, and Garrus still refused to open the door to the med bay, grieving alone with the remains of his mate. Without Shepard, they were directionless, each mourning her loss in their own way.

Legion was perplexed. Shepard-Commander had seemed so advanced compared to his own kind: a seamless blend of organic and synthetic components. She fascinated the geth: she was calculating and resilient like a machine, yet unlike them she remained wild and unpredictable. It was her humanity that was her undoing: she was unique, and the loss of her life meant she was extinguished forever. Such a tragic lack of redundancy. The Lazarus project was the only undertaking known to successfully resurrect a corpse, and the Illusive Man was now defunct, his secrets lost. Legion consulted his programs, failing to reach a consensus on how next to proceed now that his mission was a failure. Tali'Zorah would have advice, but she had temporarily returned to the Migrant Fleet. He decided to consult Tali'Zorah as soon as possible, but the Creators seemed quite hostile the last time he'd entered their home. He approached several of the crew to accompany him, but none were willing to leave the security blanket of the Normandy, and a few were too inebriated to do so. Organics were so enigmatic, poisoning themselves in reaction to a painful stimulus. Legion made a note to investigate this behaviour further before parting ways with the humans. Unwilling to give up so easily, he made his way to Kaidan's office. The soldier had been exhibiting tachycardia and altered vasomotor tone in Tali'Zorah's proximity: perhaps he would be willing to search for her.

"Alenko-Commander. I require your assistance." Kaidan would have agreed to anything that might help to take his mind off the guilt of losing Shepard a second time. Once again, he'd failed to protect her as she gave up her life for the good of humanity. Exploring the Flotilla might also give him insight into the mysterious culture of the quarian people, a subject he'd taken a great deal of interest in lately.

Kaidan wandered through the maze of the Migrant Fleet, searching for Tali. They allowed him aboard under the pretense of being an escort for Legion: the geth had insisted he had important business with her. Rounding the corner, he put one arm out to stop his companion. From across the Liveship's gardens, he could make out Tali's silhouette, standing dangerously close to another quarian.

"Kal'Reegar!" Legion called out, the soldier too enraptured by Tali to notice. Kaidan shushed him, pulling him back into a less exposed area.

Kal's hand was gently stroking Tali's mask, and she pulled him in to hug him tightly. So this was why she'd been avoiding him lately, Kaidan thought. He was such a fool: he should have known this was the reason she'd been so eager to learn how to touch another. Legion's presence was quickly attracting attention from gawking passersby: Kaidan felt the overwhelming urge to escape. Anger and bitterness welled up beneath his sadness as he hastily made his way back to the Normandy.

* * *

Down in the cargo hold, Jack grimaced, her face contorting into a twisted mask as she struck Grunt full in the snout with a biotic punch. The krogan was the only one she could turn to for help. Everyone else was too busy hugging and crying and _talking._ Bullshit. Years of experience taught Jack that the only way to get rid of pain was with even more pain. Grunt didn't believe her at first, but one look at the mess hall full of pathetic sobbing humans convinced him to try things her way. His skull cracked against the opposing wall: the biotic's vicious attack had thrown him clear across the room.

"I don't feel any better yet."

"Your turn, asshole. Hit me."

"With pleasure."

They traded blows, gaining wounds and bruises as neither held back. The raw ache failed to eclipse Jack's anguish as she lashed out again and again, tears streaking down her cheeks, blurring her vision as the krogan's right hook planted her flat on her ass, stopping short of numbing her into unconsciousness. They were both strong: Shepard's training had made them too fucking resilient to find relief in the peaceful oblivion of being knocked out cold. They would have to try another strategy.

"This isn't working. Let's drink."

"Hell yeah."

* * *

Joker sat in the mess hall, nursing yet another glass of whiskey. He looked over at the closed med bay shutters, wondering when the turian would get off his ass and tell him where to fly next. Until Garrus chose a destination, he was without a purpose: he had nothing better to do than sit here and drown his sorrows. He couldn't even sit at his post: seeing EDI only reminded him of the Illusive Man's sabotage and Shepard's death.

Kelly approached him quietly, nudging his elbow and showing him her own empty glass. Thane had been turning down her advances for a while now, and she was in desperate need of comfort. Losing Shepard was bad enough, but the agony of facing her pain alone was too much for the empathetic yeoman. Without company to distract her, visions of the commander's charred flesh mingled with memories of her own torment, frozen helpless aboard the Collector base as she waited to be digested alive and fed to the growing Reaper. Joker obliged, pouring her a shot of whiskey as she smiled appreciatively and inched closer to him. She put her head on his shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief as his arm reached up in a tentative embrace.

* * *

Samara opened the door to the life support unit, boldly entering after Thane failed yet again to answer her summons. He hadn't left his quarters since Shepard died, and she was starting to worry about him. The asari had long ago become used to seeing friends of lesser species grow old and fade away, but the sudden and violent death of the commander was unsettling even to her. She found the assassin meditating on his cot, smiling serenely.

"Thane. Are you alright?"

"Yes, Samara. My own illness reinforced how precious life can be, and the importance of time spent with loved ones. My heart aches for Garrus' loss."

"What are your plans?" She was astonished by his calm demeanor.

"I will carry on her legacy. That is what she wishes me to do." He closed his eyes once more, ending the conversation and returning to the arms of his Siha.

* * *

Mordin stood alone in his lab, his latest experiments all the more crucial now that his source of tissue was no longer available. Salarians dealt with death and loss by making the most of their short lifespans: why was he having so much difficulty honouring Shepard's memory by concentrating on his work? For the first time in his life he was unable to focus his attention, incapable of channeling his flurry of thoughts into a coherent stream. He walked over to the locked medical cabinet: concealed within were sedatives similar to the ones he'd used to subdue Shepard and Garrus. Trailing his digits over the latch, he reached instead for the photograph he kept by his desk, a family portrait of his brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. After years away, it was time for a visit home.

* * *

Tali's hand hovered over the door release as she stood outside the entrance to Kaidan's quarters. Gathering her courage, she walked in to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He glared at her as she entered, sending her away.

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to see you right now."

"So that _was_ you." Word aboard the Liveship was that a geth and human had come looking for her.

"I get it. You were using me. I can't deal with this right now!" He pounded his fist against the mattress.

"Let me guess, you saw me with Kal." Kaidan nodded as Tali crossed her arms indignantly. "He's a friend of mine; he wanted to be more. I was letting him down as gently as I could. I told him I'd already fallen for some bosh'tet of a human. I think I broke his heart, Kaidan, don't make me regret it."

He stared at her in disbelief as she began to dismantle her suit, this time not stopping at her helmet. Kaidan was suddenly grateful Miranda had made the bizarre request to have a bedroom in her office as Tali threw herself into his open arms.

* * *

For two days, Garrus held vigil over Shepard's inert body, passing the time with prayer and meditation. His hope was irrational, he knew: Cerberus' resurrection had required tremendous resources, and months of work from an entire research team. Somehow he kept his faith: unable to shake the feeling that she was still alive within him, that she needed only time and support to be reborn.

On the third day, tiny red specks appeared on the blackened surface of her remains, like the first spring shoots on a winter-bare tree. Heartened, he renewed his nurturing efforts, the medi-gel becoming increasingly murky as he spilled his blood once more into the tank. After careful consideration, he added parenteral nutrition as well: a soup of lipids and amino acids in their most basic form. Unsure of the outcome of his experiment, he made sure to add proteins of each chirality.

The following day, silvery streaks became apparent as tiny metallic threads crisscrossed her bones, regrowing the lattice of cybernetics that comprised her synthetic neural network and reinforced her skeleton. Soon they were encased in gelatinous tissue, and the tank became too opaque to visualize the bustling activity within. Concerned, the turian focused his attention on the energy emanating from his deconstructed mate, but was unable to detect the presence of either human or Reaper consciousness.

The angry red light continued to blink incessantly, despite Garrus' attempts to ignore it. Reluctantly, he answered the comm link, although he still refused to open the door to the med bay. One week had passed since he'd sequestered himself in here with Shepard, and the crew was growing more impatient by the hour. Tears had been shed, each had mourned and bonded and sought comfort in their own way, and not a drop of alcohol remained on the ship. The Council had sent several messages: they'd received limited information on the recent conflict with Cerberus and were anxiously awaiting an update. The Normandy's crew simply wished to deal with Shepard's loss by moving forward, continuing her fight and preserving her legacy. Garrus had wanted to tell them what was happening to her body, accepting his role as acting commander while she healed, but it seemed wrong somehow. This was _her_ ship, _her_ crew, and in the rare moments when he was honest with himself, he realized he wasn't entirely sure that she would pull through. As much as his refusal to lead the team was torturing them, it would be crueler still to give them false hope. He couldn't keep them waiting forever. Conjuring up nonsense about turian rituals surrounding the death of one's mate, he told them he would emerge in one more day once the traditional bereavement period had passed. It wouldn't be long now: he would soon know her fate.

At last he felt her awaken, struggling against the tube in her throat, pulling out the intravenous lines that had been feeding her ever since her circulatory system had developed. She was cold and very frightened. Overcome with joy, he jumped into the tank alongside her, pulling her against his bare plates to warm and comfort her, purring and radiating thoughts of his love to soothe her. Her mind was incoherent, childlike and delirious, but it was unmistakably _her._

_Phoenix. It's over. You're safe now._

He waited for hours, clutching her tightly as she slowly regained awareness, emerging from the deep slumber of death.

_Garrus. I feel different._

Frantic, he searched her consciousness for traces of the Reaper, and was relieved to find none. The first time she died, the vacuum of space had done nothing to damage the technology buried inside of her. It took cleansing fire to purge her of the ancient machinery, to free her from the prison implanted in her by her creators.

_I don't hear the voices any more._

The Prothean visions were still embedded, but they had lost their ability to utterly consume her: it was as though she was watching the torment and suffering from afar rather than living it herself. Best of all, she'd lost that tiny part of her that _liked_ it. At last, Phoenix was free.

* * *

The crew gathered in the mess hall, crowded together as they awaited Garrus' entrance. Joker had started a betting pool: the best odds were that the turian wasn't coming out at all, that they'd have to bust down the door and drag him away from his mate. Samara was a popular choice to replace him as the Normandy's commander, should their macabre prediction come true. Tali was a close second. In the end, no one was able to claim the prize money: none of them had predicted the sight they were about to behold.

Naked and dripping with medi-gel, Garrus emerged from the med bay cradling Shepard in his arms. He didn't say a word as he carried her past them, teeth bared in a wide turian grin, leaving nothing but shocked stares and puddles of bluish ichor in his wake as the elevator doors closed behind him. Joker was the first to speak, echoing the sentiment of everyone in the room.

"Holy shit."

Garrus returned a short while later to address his crew. He was fully armoured, looking every bit the commander as he instructed Dr. Chakwas to keep watch over his weakened mate. Setting a course for the Citadel, he took his position at the helm and lightheartedly snapped at the team.

"What are you all staring at? We have work to do."

* * *

**Shep and Garrus FTW! Two more chapters to finish this the way I want to, I think...**


	15. Restoration

Commander Vakarian looked down at the star map, browsing the solar systems to choose their next destination. So many planets, so many opportunities for exploration and adventure. He could really get used to this: it might be weeks before Shepard was strong enough to fully resume her duties. The team had accepted his leadership without question, and he wasn't about to let them down. Joker patched through a transmission: a cargo ship besieged by pirates was sending out a distress call. Perfect. There hadn't been much opportunity for combat since fighting his possessed mate, and his muscles itched for action.

Meeting the Council was one of the drawbacks of his new position. At first they insisted on seeing Shepard in person, but Garrus was quite firm that she was in no condition to leave the Normandy. He patiently endured the endless questioning, the smug glances, their heads shaking in disbelief as he relayed the latest events. Garrus silently hoped the Reapers had their own Council: if the ancient machines had politicians, it would be an eternity before they reached the consensus needed to invade Citadel space. Taking his leave with dignity, he politely promised to keep them informed of the latest developments, suppressing the urge to wonder aloud how many times the Reapers would have to attack before the Council acknowledged their existence.

Time passed swiftly as Shepard regained her health. She spent her days undergoing the grueling rehabilitation regimen prescribed by her medical team, and enjoying long chats with her crew. Her friends, really: their bonds had long since matured beyond the camaraderie of fellow soldiers. They'd escaped death together countless times, overcome insurmountable foes, and formed a makeshift family despite being as different as any group of sentients could possibly be. She listened with rapt attention to Tali's news of her romance with Kaidan, Samara's tales of the justicar code, Thane's stories of his family on Kahje, Jack's pirate exploits, even Grunt's Machiavellian plans for galactic conquest. Temporarily relieved of her commander's duties, she embraced her role as counselor and confidante.

Shepard rode the elevator down to the CIC, preparing to announce her readiness to resume her role as commander. Garrus had his back to her, overseeing the crew from atop the command centre, issuing orders with the confidence of a seasoned professional. She leaned back against the wall, watching him with pride. At last she opened up to him, allowing him to sense her presence behind him, smiling as he turned to face her.

_Don't let me interrupt you, Commander._

_You're starting to look like your old self again. Feel like taking the reins for a while?_

_I have a better idea. How about we share the responsibility? This is a human-turian ship after all. Besides, you look cute when you're in charge._

_The Council isn't going to like this._

_Since when do we answer to them?_

From then on, it was settled: Shepard and Vakarian were the commanding officers of the Normandy, and Samara assumed the role of executive officer. The transition was largely semantic: due to their bond the two were inexorably linked. Garrus enjoyed the added responsibility, and Phoenix could allow herself precious rest from time to time, assured that the Normandy and its inhabitants were safe in the capable hands of her mate.

* * *

Garrus Vakarian watched his lover sleep, kept awake by thoughts of her recent death. After each exhalation, he held his own breath until he saw her chest rise again. She looked so fragile: soft lips, smooth skin, even her delicate eyelashes. Frustrated, he gently ran his hands along her curves until she stirred.

_Phoenix._

_Garrus._

_You were dead. I thought I'd lost you._

_I know. I'm sorry. I had to protect you._

Entwined on their bed, Garrus pulled Phoenix close to him and breathed deeply. She meant so much to him: he forced himself not to think of what would have happened if his efforts to resurrect her had failed. This precious little human never ceased to astonish him, he had to give her that. Two months had passed since she'd agreed to be his mate, to bind her life and her spirit to his eternally. Turians didn't have to seek approval to choose their partners, and their decision had been made quietly, hidden from the world except for their crew and a few close friends. Somehow it didn't seem enough. Losing her had only reinforced that sentiment.

_I want to marry you._

_What?_

_That is what humans do, isn't it? I'm tired of having to hide what we are. I want to announce to the whole galaxy that I love you. When this is over, I want to publicly celebrate the fact that you're my mate, hatred and racism be damned._

_Garrus, I don't know whether this will ever be over._

_Then let's do it now._

_Okay. Yes. Let's get married._

She giggled. The Council was going to have a collective heart attack, especially that turian councilor. Garrus was right: they'd been through too much, life was too precious to care what anyone thought. She did wish they had more time to let Garrus' father get used to the idea: they hadn't parted ways on the best of terms.

Shepard stretched, staring at her fingertips. She'd been rebuilt just right, the nanoparticles within her remembering her blueprint exactly. Her skin sparkled with the same faint metallic sheen, her hair flowed in waves of copper. Curious how the only thing missing was the Reaper. And her jewelry: the metal must have been repurposed to make new circuitry. Shepard wondered how much of her was truly human: she had always been a hybrid of organic tissue and Prothean technology, and Mordin had confirmed she now had traces of turian biology as well. An intergalactic mutt, she thought, smiling to herself. Fitting that she would be the one to unite so many races aboard her ship.

_You know, according to traditional human customs we're supposed to abstain before the wedding._

_Is that so?_ Garrus extended a single talon, slowly tearing her silken nightgown from her collarbone to the hemline. He looked down at her bared breasts and sighed. _Guess I should go file reports or something._ He accentuated his point by sending a biotic shiver through her body.

_I… I've never really been a traditional kind of girl._

_Oh? Ohhhh…_ He really had intended to antagonize her further, but the irresistible sensation of her tongue licking his mandible was fast eroding his resolve. Nimble hands stroked his lower plating, his cock expanding within her as she took him into her wet heat as soon as he emerged. Phoenix let out a guttural moan, purring along with her turian as he released control and gave himself over to the predator within.

* * *

Three messages, and still no response. Garrus had been trying to contact his father to inform him privately of his wedding plans, but the stubborn turian patriarch was refusing to answer his e-mail. Exasperated, he decided to make one more trip to Palaven to try to persuade him in person. A flock of brightly-coloured birds scattered as the shuttle landed on the outskirts of the seaside town. Under other circumstances, Garrus would have been happy to return to his childhood paradise, but today he was worried and angry. He knew he would never have the approval of the turian Hierarchy, but his own father's denial of his accomplishments and his mate stung deeply.

Taking Shepard by the hand, he buzzed at the door to his father's house, steeling himself for the difficult conversation to come and trying to remain calm. A striking female turian opened the door, not quite as tall as Garrus but every bit as attractive with her silvery-gray hide and prominent Vakarian markings. She wore the armoured uniform of a C-Sec officer.

"Hey, little brother. Like my new outfit? I decided it was time to expand my horizons beyond the military. Father's been in a snit ever since you left the force."

"Sahra. It's so good to see you." Garrus hugged his sister, picking her up and twirling her around as he grinned broadly. Shepard watched Sahra's expression with amusement: she wasn't used to being manhandled by anyone, much less her younger brother. Garrus had acclimated to human customs a little too well. He introduced Shepard and explained his need to speak with the elder Vakarian.

"Nice to finally meet the infamous commander," she said, winking at Shepard. "I really don't think you should go in there. He's been in one of his moods ever since you sent that last message. He won't even tell me why."

"Maybe I could try. It would give you two time to catch up, and if he kicks me out I'll go wait by the beach until you get back." Shepard turned on the charm, sending a message to Garrus to trust her.

"Your funeral, human." Sahra set off with Garrus close behind, racing him toward the nearby park that had been their playground growing up. They sat on the edge of an ancient tree stump and tried to best one another with tales of their adventures. Sahra had risen to prominence in the military, her brave exploits and rigid discipline earning her a reputation as one of the most promising young officers. With the Vakarian name, she had a high standard to live up to, and did so with ease. Only recently had events occurred to cast her into disrepute, prompting her request to be transferred to C-Sec in an abrupt change of career.

"I've got to thank you, little brother. Your antics really took the heat off me. No matter what I do, I can always count on you to piss off Father." She laughed, trying to catch Garrus in a headlock, sobering as she explained her transgression. Turian society was quite exacting in its expectations, and the familial duties of the daughter of such a prominent family were tremendous. Sahra was supposed to pair off with a male of an equally esteemed pedigree, bringing honour to her clan and strengthening their position in the hierarchical order. To her great surprise, she had fallen in love with a member of the biotic cabal she was assigned to protect. Lillix was strong, vicious, utterly entrancing… and she was beautiful. On Palaven, her choice of mate was simply unacceptable. The Citadel was more accepting, more progressive, and a posting with C-Sec meant an opportunity to be true to her heart. For the first time, Sahra realized she empathized with her brother's need to pursue his own path, to break through the rigid constraints of familial and societal roles.

Hours passed as she and Garrus began to make up for lost years apart. Eventually, the amber rays of the setting sun reminded them to return to the house. Rushing back, they searched the beach for Shepard but found no trace of her. Tentatively, they entered their childhood home, shocked to find Shepard and the Inspector chatting warmly over mugs of tea. Their father was regaling her with more exploits from his C-Sec glory days, and the little human kept grinning and nodding along.

"Unbelievable." Sahra was staring at the pair, her jaw slack.

"Come on in, children. We were just finishing up. Shepard has offered us passage aboard the Normandy to return to the Citadel… would you like to come along?" Garrus couldn't believe his father was offering him a berth on his own ship. Perplexed, he questioned his mate.

_How did you do it? He wouldn't speak to me for months after I told him I wanted to leave C-Sec._

_A little persuasion, a little charm. He just needed some time to get to know me._

Their encounter hadn't been quite so straightforward. She'd listened calmly while he ranted, venting his fury over a human leading his son astray, seducing him with her alien values and biotics while embracing a distinctly un-turian way of life. He blamed her for Garrus leaving C-Sec, nearly getting himself killed on Omega, and bringing dishonour to the Vakarian name. The Inspector had worked himself into a frenzy, until he became so irrational that even _he_ realized he wasn't making sense. At last he'd broken down, overcome with grief, describing the guilt he felt over failing his son and the pain of losing his mother. He was so proud, so noble, so lonely, and Shepard couldn't help but feel affection for him. She told him of Garrus' accomplishments, described some of the challenges they'd faced and decisions they'd made, and emphasized the role of the Inspector's tutelage in shaping the man his son had become. Finally, she explained as best she could the circumstances of her resurrection, reborn in large part thanks to Garrus' efforts. She was part turian now, a fact she reinforced by gently taking the Inspector's hand, drawing his talon over her palm and smiling as he stared astonished at the thin line of purple blood left behind.

* * *

Councilor Anderson shook his head. His protégé had returned once again, bearing tales of Cerberus conspiracy and rogue artificial intelligence, even claiming that the quarians and geth might be receptive to peace talks. He promised her an internal investigation into Cerberus' actions on Earth, and their role in orchestrating the fates of so many Alliance soldiers: Kahoku, Toombs, even Shepard. It was her last request that truly startled him: she proudly announced her upcoming wedding to Garrus Vakarian and asked him to officiate.

"Shepard, you know that what you're asking is illegal. I support you completely, but it isn't up to me. Humans simply cannot marry any other species."

"Well then, it's a good thing I'm not human. I'm not sure I ever really was." She tossed him a datapad containing a few of the findings from Mordin's latest research. "Besides, I've never held citizenship status. Earth's laws don't apply to me. I'm not asking you as a councilor, I'm asking you as a friend."

"Udina is going to have an aneurysm over this."

"So don't tell him. Not until after the ceremony, anyway."

Try as he might, Anderson couldn't argue with her logic. He wasn't sure what surprised him more: the revelation of Shepard's true nature, or his own reaction as he warmly agreed to her request. Why was it he could never say no to her? Sighing, he watched the pair depart and began to plan a speech to befit his finest pupil.

* * *

**Okay, you know what's coming next. Please be patient with me, I want to get the finale just right…**


	16. The Sweet Hereafter

**Shep and Garrus get married. What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic. This is the ending I've been planning all along, ever since the first chapter of 'From the Ashes', although it did take me a bit longer to get here than I thought it would...**

**

* * *

**

The cherry blossoms were in full bloom in the Shepard Memorial Gardens. This sanctuary hidden among the chaos and bustle of the Presidium had been Garrus Vakarian's tribute to his lost commander, his last peaceful and rational act before the need for vengeance sent him off to Omega in a blaze of bullets and fury. Securing the space had been Anderson's idea, but the design and execution were all the turian's doing. The first time he'd entered this haven, the living roof a beautiful explosion of soft pink flowers, the air strongly perfumed with her scent, he'd laid down in the shadow of a tree trunk and imagined her spirit right next to him. He could almost feel her back in his arms as blossoms slowly drifted down, her touch nearly unbearable as a petal landed softly on his cheek.

Overcome with grief, a clear purpose etched cruelly into his heart, he'd walked straight over to the C-Sec offices and announced his resignation. He didn't plan on living long enough to ever return again, yet here he was, wearing his finest suit of armour polished to a gleaming shade of cobalt blue, waiting for his love to arrive. Garrus didn't believe in miracles, nor in fate, but he felt somehow that this moment was simply _right._ After all the pain and suffering, their struggle and sacrifice, the universe was unfolding just as it should.

He looked out at the small gathering: precious few had been invited to attend, in order to avoid the media frenzy that would normally accompany such an occasion. There would be no endless speeches, no political posturing, no gawking masses like there'd been at her funeral two years ago. All surviving crew of the Normandy, past and present, were welcomed with open arms. They'd picked up his father and sister on Palaven, torn Liara away from her duties on Ilium, even managed to cajole Wrex into a temporary leave from Tuchanka. Only Grunt was missing: Wrex had made him promise to keep order during his absence from the Urdnot clan, and the young krogan was all too eager to avoid the sentimental human ritual in order to pursue breeding opportunities of his own.

A lone chair sat empty in the front row, next to Kaidan and Tali. Phoenix had insisted on leaving a space in honour of Ash, the only member of their original family who couldn't be present. Garrus smiled, his thoughts bittersweet: the Ash he'd initially met would be horrified by the notion of Shepard marrying a turian, but the gunnery chief's perspective had evolved dramatically during their brief time together. Garrus bonded with her over tales of military exploits and pointers on gun maintenance. She was a perfect example of how stubborn yet adaptable humans could be, not unlike his mate.

Garrus felt momentarily lightheaded, stricken with panic that he would say the wrong words, perform the intricate rituals incorrectly, bring dishonour and disappointment to Phoenix. His heart pounded and his mouth went dry. A reassuring hand patted his shoulder: Anderson smiled warmly and promised to help him through the ceremony. A sudden murmur percolated through the audience as they turned to face the garden's entrance: all thoughts of fear and inadequacy vanished from the turian's mind as he beheld the angel walking toward him.

* * *

Phoenix groomed herself in the mirror, making tiny adjustments to her makeup, tucking an errant wisp of hair back into place. She smoothed the imaginary wrinkles in her dress, an elegant silk gown to complement Garrus' armour, dyed the noble blue of Vakarian markings. To her delight, Garrus' father had approved. Outside her little enclosure, she could hear the muffled din of the gathering crowd. She took a few moments alone to meditate, gathering her thoughts and calming her nerves. _Alone._ That's how she would enter, walking unaccompanied down the aisle toward her mate: it was only fitting.

After Garrus made his shocking request, on a whim she'd tried to track down some of the children she grew up with. Seeing Garrus with his family made her yearn to reconnect with old friends, celebrate her past and acknowledge where she came from, however humble. Trails went cold: street kids living off the grid were difficult to track. Liara's skills came in very handy. Most were dead, a few imprisoned, one unaccounted for. A dismal track record: she'd shuddered at the news, thankful she was lucky enough to survive her upbringing. Full of gratitude, Phoenix sent a long letter to the monks who ran the school she attended, handwritten in flowing kanji before being scanned for transmission. She knew better than to expect them to join her on the Citadel: a trip aboard a starship was too much to ask of a culture that shunned technology. Even her letter would have to be printed on actual _paper_ for delivery on Earth. That was it: her Alliance training had been too rushed, too secretive to form lasting friendships. Everyone else she considered family, with the notable exception of Ash, was waiting outside for her now.

Kelly popped her head into Shepard's dressing room, signaling the start of the ceremony. Gathering her courage, she clutched the bundle of Palaven wildflowers like it was her last grenade in a room full of husks. She steeled herself, her features hardening into Commander Shepard's mask, then stopped. Phoenix forced her gaze to soften, her lips to part softly in a smile, and her brow to unfurrow. Today she needed to leave the security blanket of her commander's persona behind. Today, in front of all these people, she had to be herself. Only the thought of Garrus awaiting her prevented her from obeying the butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach.

Phoenix walked slowly toward the heart of the cherry tree grove. She wanted to look around, welcoming everyone who'd come to join them, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the enraptured turian grinning madly at her. He looked so handsome in his armour, she thought, realizing her smile had broadened into the human equivalent of the very same grin. All her meticulous attention to detail was quickly unraveling: her flowing curls were being blown about by the gentle breeze, and she had to walk on her tiptoes to keep the heels of her silver stilettos from sinking in to the soft grass. The moment she saw Garrus she stopped caring, not bothering to brush away the solitary blossom that landed in her hair as she took his hand and turned to face the altar.

Councilor Anderson suppressed a chuckle: the galaxy's two fiercest warriors stood before him, looking as foolishly giddy as teenagers in love. In all the years he'd known Shepard, he'd never seen her this way: she was beautiful, feminine, positively glowing. She'd had more than her share of tough breaks, the weight of the world on her shoulders. If Vakarian could make her this happy, surely he deserved to marry her. Human law be damned. _We always were a bunch of stubborn fools_, he thought, actually looking forward to explaining his actions to the Council later on.

"Welcome to all of you: friends, family, brothers and sisters in arms. I'm so pleased you could all be present for this unprecedented occasion: Shepard is unarmed and wearing a dress." Laughter bubbled up from the crowd. "The Normandy was created to symbolize partnership between humans and turians. It became something greater than we could possibly have imagined. I have the great honour to be addressing a gathering of heroes: each and every one of you have played a role in making the galaxy a better place. Looking out at all of you, I can't help but be reminded of how much has changed in my short lifespan. When I was a boy, humans thought they were the only sentients alive. Interstellar travel was the realm of dreamers and science fiction writers, and war had nearly destroyed our race. Now I'm proud to represent our species in a coalition of many, officiating the eternal bond between the finest human and turian I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

"I've known Phoenix Shepard since she was just a girl, a new recruit to the special ops training program. It was hard to believe that so much power could be hidden inside such a small person, but I don't need to tell you about her exploits. What never ceases to amaze me is that underneath the soldier is a kind, caring human being." He looked right at Shepard and smiled knowingly. She wasn't human, not really, but he wanted her to know it didn't matter. "It's a tribute to her magnetism that such a diverse group can work together harmoniously under her command." Whooping cheers came from the marines, joined by a loud krogan grunt.

"Garrus Vakarian was a young C-Sec officer when I met him a few years ago. At the time, he seemed to embody the best qualities of the turian race: justice, discipline, honour." The Inspector was beaming with pride. "It wasn't until later that I saw another side of him, equally impressive but surprising nonetheless. He's quite passionate, creative, and capable of incredible versatility and adaptability on the battlefield. He's also the only person I've ever heard of turning down a promotion to Spectre status." Sahra gasped audibly, gripping Lillix's hand tightly. "I have no doubt that he loves you very much."

_You look breathtaking._

_So do you. And your father actually looks happy. I can't believe everyone came._

_I can't believe Wrex dressed up. I didn't think krogans had formal attire. Phoenix, how much longer does this go on? If I don't get to kiss you soon my heart's going to explode._

_I'm not sure. This isn't exactly a traditional ceremony; normally they don't describe the bride and groom's victories in battle. Best wedding speech I've ever heard. _Anderson was using a long anecdote about their fight against Sovereign to illustrate a point about fidelity. That was her best guess, anyway: she was far too excited to focus on his words.

"Ahem. Do you have the rings?" Anderson's eyebrows were raised in a prompt.

Phoenix untied the ribbon that bound two small tori of titanium mesh to her bouquet. The Councilor completed the ceremony, placing one ring on Garrus' smallest digit and the other on Shepard's ring finger. A brief flash of biotic energy, and the metal fused to their skin, the lattice melting into shining silvery bands.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may embrace."

Garrus leaned in and pressed his forehead against Phoenix's. Their bodies were aglow as she threw her arms around his cowl, pulling him in and kissing him full on the mouth, prompting loud cheers from the gathered soldiers. He swept her into his arms, carrying her down the grassy path, now permanently bound to one another by the rites of both of their cultures.

They took the opportunity to disappear to Garrus' old apartment while the garden was rearranged for a reception, under the pretense of changing his armour to less formal attire. Despite her protests about wrinkles, he insisted she wear her dress while they made love, careful not to damage the delicate fabric with his talons. Sated, breathless, and unspeakably happy, Garrus and Phoenix returned to the cover of the cherry trees to rejoin the party and celebrate the night away with their closest friends and family.

* * *

Shepard tucked her head into her favourite spot on Garrus' chest, wrapping her arm around his thorax. He stirred, reaching up to slowly run his talons through her hair. They could have spent their wedding night anywhere they wanted, but decided to return home to the captain's quarters atop the Normandy. As a present the crew gave them the ship to themselves for the night: they'd never look at the star map the same way again. Exhausted, they'd fallen asleep on the bed in their cabin, ensnared in a tangle of sheets and each other.

_I was having that dream again, Garrus._

_Me too. I always feel so peaceful afterwards._

_It was a little different this time. Almost like someone else was there with us._

_What do you suppose it means?_

_Who knows? It must be a remnant from the Prothean beacon. At least it's better than those horrible nightmares._

_I'm so glad we did this. Completed the ritual, I mean. No matter what happens, we're in this together._

Shepard giggled. _You sound so ominous. There's nothing we can't handle, you know. Pirates, warlords, Reapers… bring it on._

_I'm not so sure about that. Didn't you see the vids?_ Somehow, despite their best efforts at secrecy, an image of the kiss that sealed their matrimony had leaked onto the extranet, setting off a media firestorm. It was a beautiful picture, but neither was looking forward to their next trip to the Citadel.

_We'll manage somehow. We always do._

They cuddled, Garrus' mandibles planting fluttery kisses atop her head as his rumbling purr echoed hers. The soothing vibrations and the warmth of his body were irresistible, and Shepard soon found herself drifting back into her recurring dream.

She and Garrus were floating in deep space, two celestial bodies orbiting one another endlessly amid the ether. They had no breath, no pulse: neither alive nor dead, they simply _were._ The universe was changing and evolving rapidly around them, entire civilizations growing out of nothingness and crumbling into dust in the blink of an eye. Holding him close, she cradled her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of utter contentment, the knowledge that nothing else mattered outside his embrace. The stillness of the moment was shattered by a faint pulsation in her abdomen, the tiny sound as distinct as a Thanix cannon in the impenetrable silence. It was a heartbeat, faster than hers, even faster than a turian's, an astonishing presence in their newly peaceful lives.

The End

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**Thanks for reading! I had so much fun writing this fic. It all grew out of a few ideas I had while absentmindedly scanning planets in ME2. Hope you enjoyed the glimpse into my geeky musings...**

**If inspiration strikes I may write some oneshots in the future, no definitive plans as yet.**

**A krogan-sized thank you for the reviews and comments! Wait, I think that means a headbutt... sorry.**

**BTW check out Sharem's (my absolutely awesome beta reader) take on the Kaidan/Tali romance entitled "I See You"... my heart just melted when I read it.**


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